Rebekah of the Woads
by chiefhow
Summary: CompletedRebekah, Guinevere, and Sera are rescued by Arthur and his knights. Can they trust these people? I want to say it isn't your typical story, but in reality it isn't QUITE your typical story. Lots of people find love as well, because they deserve
1. Chapter one:Out of the Pit

The cell was cold, wet, and moldy. The air was thick with fear. She had not seen sunlight for months. Screams were ever present, and she could not seem to shut the sound out. These were her people, they were suffering, and she couldn't do a thing about it.

She pulled her rag of a dress more tightly around her and winced as it scraped across the new gash on her arm. She took a mental check of her injuries. Four dislocated fingers, one gash on her left arm, burn marks on her right thigh, neck, and another just underneath the tattoo on her right cheek. Her black eyes should be healed by now, she thought, and eventually her various cuts and bruises would fade. The grime and dirt would wash off. She wasn't sure about her fingers, but otherwise there would be no lasting damage. 'Who was she kidding?' she thought. She would never forget the screams, the blood, the terror. That would be lasting. She would never forgive herself. She had gotten complacent, leading her friends right into this trap. How had it come to this?

_Rebekah had never had such a good time in all her six years. She had had her first sword lesson today, and she had already decided that this was the kind of life that she was going to lead. Her father was laughing, head thrown back, the picture of joy. His little girl was going to be a demon on the battlefield, he thought. She would carry on the ways of her people, she would save them. Granted, she was not particularly skilled yet, but she had a feel for the blade, a passion for the art. She would do, he thought. She would do. _

_They lived secluded from their people. He did not want anyone looking to closely at this child. She was too precious, too important. Her mother had been a great leader among the Woads. She had died in battle, leaving behind an infant to care for. He had been heartbroken, but knew that he had a job to do. Their people needed a new leader, and he would give them one. _

_They had lived for too long in the forests, when their ancestors had once worked the land. This was their home, and the Romans had no business here. The Romans took what was not theirs, even the children of those they had conquered. They had incorporated them into their army. The knights that lived within Hadrian's Wall were such children. They had been taken from their parents in Sarmatia at an early age, many of them dying for a cause that was not their own. He could not hate these people, who were doing what they had to do to survive. He was doing the same thing himself. He could not forget all the lives that had been taken by their blades, however. They were formidable adversaries, and not to be trifled with. One day, the Sarmatian knights would have to be defeated, or the Woads would never retake their land._

__

_His little girl wasn't little anymore. Her fourteenth birthday had come, and her skill had grown past even his wildest dreams. She was able to use her sword, arrows, knives, and she was also very able to fight without any weapons at all. Many people never bothered learning hand to hand combat, always assuming that their opponent would give them plenty of time to arm up, or give them time to retrieve their weapon. He had seen too many people die in their beds for that to be true. Just because you have no weapon did not mean that no one would kill you. Those who thought so were simply stupid in his opinion. His daughter was not stupid._

_He had told her tales of their people, battle stories that made her eyes shine with pride. In her head, she was one of these heroes. She would fight and win when the odds were heavily against her. She would save hundreds, no, thousands of innocents from the faceless villains. She grew up with a great understanding of honor and courage. In a way she was raised, not only by her father, but also by those already dead, that lived on in these tales._

_She had been with her tribe before, but only on special days of worship, so she did not have any friends. She went off by her self often, and learned the sounds of the forest, and was always able to discern when something was amiss. She was a skilled tracker._

_There was one thing that had always rather unsettled her father, however. With her dark brown hair and blue-grey eyes, he could see how many of the young men would be distracted. To disguise her beauty a bit, he had given his daughter a traditional tattoo on her cheek. The girl had been delighted, and he realized his mistake. She wanted what was best for her people, and no amount of beauty would ever change that. He heaved a deep sigh as he watched her go through her drills._

_It was time. They were going back._

_They had been greeted with such warmth, and happiness that Rebekah had immediately felt at home. This is where she belonged. She was surrounded by people her own age! She made friends quickly. There was Guinevere, Merlin's daughter, who had been the first to introduce herself, Sera, who had quickly followed. They were rarely not together, always sharing a joke or sparring. Guinevere was the only one who could beat her in archery, and Sera could always best here with knives, but no one could touch her in hand to hand, or with a sword._

_Guinevere had taken Rebekah to see her father on her first night with the tribe. She would never forget when his eyes settled on her. She went still, and held her breath. He had stared at her for so long, it felt as though he could see right through her._

"_Your mother was a strong woman, I am glad to see her daughter following in her footsteps."_

_Whatever Rebekah had been expecting, it had not been that. She bowed her head and retreated, her thoughts full of doubt. Could she take her mother's place? Could she show the same strength? Guinevere had interrupted her thoughts, telling her it was time to eat. Rebekah had followed her to the fire, and tried to put the meeting from her mind. She would worry about this tomorrow. _

_The years past quickly, Rebekah, Guinevere, and Sera improved their skills, and had many opportunities to test them. The Woads were growing restless. They were tired of living in the shadow of the Romans. They ventured farther and farther south, until they were having regular battles with the Sarmatian knights that lived within Hadrian's Wall. Merlin knew that this could not continue. They were losing far to many people, and at this rate, the Romans would have no trouble taking the rest of their land. Something had to be done. _

_Merlin began to spread his troops out, hoping to hold as much land as possible. He sent his daughter and her companions farther north. This achieved several things. For one, it kept her farther from danger, for another, someone had to do it, and Guinevere and her companions had much battle experience. If worst came to worst, they could fend for themselves. He only hoped that their journey would be safe._

_When given their assignments, Guinevere nearly protested, but her training held, and she accepted the orders without question. They were to watch the family of wealthy and influential Roman. If any interesting information came along, they were to pass it on. _

_All was going well, until Rebekah had decided to get a closer look. _

" _We can't get that close, Rebekah, the man doesn't get hardly any news anyway, it's not worth the risk!" Protested Sera._

_Guinevere agreed, but Rebekah could not be swayed. Their assignment had been so tedious, and she had simply gotten bored. In the end, Guinevere and Sera could not in good conscience let her go alone. _

_What they saw did not sit well with any of them. Everyone was forced to work for this "man of God", even children no more than six. Those who did not were beaten as an example; some were taken, and never seen again. Not only that, they didn't even get to keep the food that they had harvested. Most looked about ready to collapse from lack of food. _

" _We can't let them be treated like this, these are our people too!" hissed Rebekah._

"_What can we do, pray tell?" asked Sera._

"_Well, for starters, I would like to speak to this 'man of God' wouldn't you?" and without even pausing for a response, she went charging for the gates. The Soldiers posted at the gate were caught off guard, and didn't have time to close the door. Guinevere and Sera were running after her, frantic to get her away and into the woods. This however was not what happened. Rebekah had her dagger out and was already threatening a servant woman._

"_Where is he?" It was more of an order than a question. _

_The servant looked at her with terrified eyes, she opened her mouth a few times but nothing came out. Her words were not needed, however, as Marius Honorius himself stepped outside to see what all the commotion was about. Dressed in his best robes, he was a sharp contrast to the peasants, with their threadbare clothing._

"_What are you doing? Why are you not in the fields? The grain does not grow by itself, no?" He had asked angrily._

"_And here I was coming to ask you the same question." Rebekah had replied coolly._

"_How dare you speak to me in that tone, as if we are equals! Do you know who I am, peasant?"_

" _Oh, I know who you are, and you are right. We are not equals. I, and every other 'peasant' out there are ten times your superior in everything that matters."_

_Sera and Guinevere stood behind Rebekah with identical expressions of loathing and disgust. This was no man. This was a worm. He had no consideration for anyone but himself. If that was his wife (the shadow of a woman standing next to him) then he also had a problem with keeping his fists to himself. The Roman pig did not deserve obedience._

_Rebekah's words had infuriated the man of the house to such an extent that his face was turning a lovely shade of puce. _

"_Guards, I think we have a few extra rooms for our guests, no?" he said._

_Immediately, the three friends formed a triangle, backs to the middle, swords drawn, ready to defend themselves against the six guards that were trying to subdue them. The guards attacked, and Rebekah was relieved to find them very unchallenging. Something happened, however, that had never happened before. Guinevere trippedon the unfamiliar tile, and dropped her sword. _

_In an instant, one of the guards swooped down and had his arms wrapped around Guinevere, a knife at her throat._

"_Drop you weapons." He commanded._

_Rebekah's mind raced for a solution, anything to get them out of this mess that they were in, that she had led them to. Her mind came up blank. She dropped her sword and dagger. She heard several other clangs, and knew that Sera had dropped her weapons as well. They were grabbed roughly by their guards and were quickly brought around to the side of the villa, where there was what appeared to be a small hut. Once inside, however, they surmised that the rooms must go underground. They where brought to a man with wild eyes. He gazed eagerly at them, a crazed grin on his face. He immediately noticed their various tattoos and said,_

"_You are here to redeem yourselves. You have lived an evil life, full of sin. You are safe now, is there anything you would like to confess?"_

_Rebekah could not believe her ears. How would this man know anything about her life or her sins? She had seen many other people chained to the walls, some already dead, and the sick feeling in her stomach only deepened. They were going to die here, they would not be able to help her people, and it was all her fault. Why had she done something so rash? It was not like her. Rebekah always liked to have a plan, and now, looking into the eyes of the monk, she realized that she could get out of this place now, but she would not be able to help the others. The guards had their arms securely behind their backs, so movement was difficult. Guinevere and Sera couldn't fight hand to hand very well anyway, and could very well be killed. She had to wait until she could get a weapon into their hands, and that was not likely to happen any time soon. She had to get the monk to focus on her, and hopefully, he wouldn't pay as much attention to her friends._

"_I have something to confess." She stated._

_The monk blinked, but quickly recovered, a gratified smile on his face. Finally, he could lead a sinner willingly from the fires of hell! He had been waiting for someone like this to come along._

"_Yes, my child?"_

"_You'll have to come closer, it's too shameful to say too loudly." Rebekah said, nearly achieving a remorseful look. The monk saw only what he wanted to see, and came closer. As soon as he was in range, she hit his forehead with hers. She had expected the monk to be furious, to beat her. What she was unprepared for was his smile. It slowly got wider and wider, until Rebekah thought it would take over his face. As much as she hated to admit it, that smile frightened her more than any violence. The monk stepped close to her again, this time, the guard holding her head. He brought a grimy hand through her dark brown hair._

"_I have a feeling that we will have much to talk about, my child." He said in a soft undertone._

_Rebekah shivered in spite of herself. This would be bad. _

The Roman's wife was outside her cell, and hurriedly passed her some food. Rebekah had been in this cell for four months, and the first time that the woman Fulcinia had come to her with food, she had been shocked. This was the waif of a woman that allowed her husband to beat her? This woman actually went out of her way to defy her husband? It just goes to show, she thought to herself, you can't judge us women by our exteriors. We always surprise you.

Rebekah had certainly surprised her torturers. She had never one cried out, not even when they had dislocated her fingers. She only allowed herself to cry when she knew they were gone. Every time they touched her, she forced herself to think of her mother, and her people. She would be strong; she would be strong for them.

The Roman woman left with Rebekah's thanks, and Rebekah sat back against the wall of her cell. She tried to call out to Guinevere and Sera, but she found her throat was too dry for use. She sighed, curled up in a corner, and tried to sleep.

Suddenly, she heard the door to the hut being thrown open. She sat up quickly and winced. Who was there? She heard voices, but could not remember ever hearing them before. The voices were yelling at the monk, and soon she heard footsteps.

A man was outside of her cell. He stared at her through his mane of braids. He quickly opened the door and entered the cell. She tried to stand, but found that she could not. The man picked her up wordlessly, and carried her out of the hut that had been her hell. Rebekah was blinded by sunlight, the wind played across her filthy face. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to cry in the presence of another human.


	2. Chapter two: A confusing Day

**Author's note: Thank you so much for reviewing! As you can see, I need all the help I can get. I would love people to tell me about all the mistakes I made, but please try to do it in a nice way-I don't know any better! I may not be able to update every day, as I have a sibling who is obsessed with the game "007 James Bond Nightfire" and is generally on the only computer in the house at inconvenient times. Not to mention my father who, dissatisfied with my progress in math, has decided that I can't go on fan fiction until I finish chapter one on some math program. Grrr... I will try my hardest, however. I love all my reviewers! Yesterday, I forgot to add a disclaimer, so, here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his knights. The characters I own thus far are Rebekah, Rebekah's father, and Sera. I do not own Lancelot or Tristan...But if I did...oh, think of the possibilities!**

Their rescuers were Sarmatian knights. Not just any Sarmatian knights. Arthur's Sarmatian knights. These people were in the service of Rome. 'Oh, no. This is not good.' Rebekah thought. The knight who had rescued her turned to the man, who could only be Arthur and said,

"They are Woads." In a calm and controlled way, so that even Rebekah had to listen hard to hear the distrust in his voice.

Arthur did not respond. He was too busy making sure that Guinevere, Rebekah, Sera, and Lucan (a little boy they had found in a cell) had water. Rebekah did not know what to make of this man. Generally, she was able to judge people's actions and thoughts quickly and accurately. This Roman was a different story.

Rebekah had heard about him living with the Woads. Some things Rebekah knew couldn't be true, (she was pretty sure Arthur had not eaten the eyes of every Woad he had killed) but everyone seemed to agree that his father had been a Roman and his mother had been a Briton. For reasons no one seemed to by privy to, he had decided to follow his father's blood, and spill the blood of his mother's people. Rebekah would enjoy the opportunity to study this man, if it didn't mean that he would in turn realize that he had extremely influential Woads in his company.

The man with the mane of braids had returned with a skin of water. This surprised Rebekah. It was a day full of surprises. She had thought that this man did not care if she lived or died. He had taken her from her cell because his commander had ordered it. Rebekah had not heard Arthur order him to give her water. Why was he doing this? Nevertheless, Rebekah accepted the water gratefully, remembering the times she had licked condensation off the walls of her cell, trying to quench her thirst. After the initial shock of the water in her mouth, she completely drained the skin, and handed it back to the knight.

Marius Honorius came stomping into view. What were these people doing? Here he was doing the just thing, offering them salvation, and these people were ruining it all!

"What are you doing? These people are pagans!"

"So are we." Replied a young looking bearded knight.

"These pagans refuse to accept the place God has set for them at the table of life. They must die! As an example! An example!" Marius was desperate to get his point across. The knights were looking at him in a rather unkind manner, they obviously didn't understand!

"Refused to accept their place? You mean they refuse to be your serfs?" Arthur asked, a dangerous note in his voice. Marius obviously missed this, as he responded,

"Yes, yes! You understand!" Arthur interrupted him by roughly grabbing the front of his robes. This was not going the way Marius had planned.

"Of course, as a Roman knight you would understand... as a Christian..."

Arthur released him, a look of deep disgust on his face. Suddenly, Marius noticed his wife kneeling next to Guinevere.

"And you, you kept them alive!" Marius was enraged. His wife stood up, a pleading look on her face, hands stretched out in front of her, as if this gesture would ward off the blow that was to follow. Marius did indeed send her sprawling. In an instant, Arthur was upon him, knocking him to the ground. Marius was more than enraged now. He was confused. He was used to being in charge, to knowing what was going on. This was far out of his range of control.

"When we get to the wall, you will pay for this heresy!" he spat.

Arthur appeared calm as he placed Excalibur upon Marius' throat. His eyes however were glittering. This man called himself a Christian. He was smearing the faith that had seen Arthur through whenever he had felt most alone. _He_ would pay for his heresy.

" Perhaps I should kill you now an seal my fate." Arthur threatened in a steely tone.

Everyone in the circle held their breath. Would he really do it? Just then, the crazed monk clutched Arthur's arm.

"I was willing to die with them, to lead them to their rightful place. It is God's will that these sinners be sacrificed."

Arthur looked at the mad monk with a mixture of malice and hatred. He was just another worthless soul claiming to be a messenger of God.

"Then I will do His will. Wall them back up." Arthur issued the command. The villagers were only too happy to comply, and the monks were swept away in the tide of eager people.

Now Rebekah was _really_ confused. If this was all happening because it was the will of his God, why did he not leave them there? She wasn't the only one. The braided knight approached Arthur, his voice not betraying his thoughts.

" We have no time for this, Arthur. An entire Saxon army is coming. They will be here by nightfall." And, sure enough, they all froze at the sound of the approaching drums.

Rebekah hadn't heard any new information from her Woad allies in a long time, being beaten and tortured for four months. She had not heard of the Saxon invasion. She had not heard that the Romans were going to pull out of Britain. She brought her hand up to her face, and tried to cover her eyes, to think. She blinked at her misshapen hand. If she looked so bad, how were the others?

She turned her head and first saw Guinevere. Arthur had taken a particular interest in her, and had carried her out of the dungeon himself. Her friend's hands resembled her own, and she was filthy. She could barely move, but that was only to be expected. Rebekah wasn't moving too well herself. She looked beyond Guinevere to Sera. Sera had a black eye and her left cheek had deep scratches across it that looked horribly as if they had been delivered by someone's rather choppy nails. The dislocation of the fingers appeared to be a popular form of torture, as hers were misshapen as well. A knight with curly brown locks and scruffy facial hair was kneeling next to her, trying to make her drink. Sera couldn't seem to hold any water down. Marius would pay for this. When Rebekah got her strength back, she would see to that. Never, in all of her life had she felt such loathing. Her mouth formed a malicious grin, before her lip split. Oh, yes. She had something to look forward to.

"Get the wounded into the wagon. We're leaving, Tristan." Arthur said, with such finality, the braided knight known as Tristan didn't even bother to argue that they would be too slow. He had his orders. He picked Rebekah up, not sure why he was trying to be gentle. Her people were constantly trying to kill him. In all likelihood, she had probably fired an arrow or two at him herself at some point. Yet when he had seen here through the bars of her cell, he had not seen an enemy. He had seen helplessness, he had seen despair, but that was not all. He had seen distrust etched in her eyes, the sort an animal gets when being hunted. That had hurt. They had turned her into an animal. She thought he was going to hurt her. He would show her how to trust. He would show her how to be human.

Tristan set her down on a few hastily made piles of clothes. Her eyes closed, and she went to sleep. He stood there for a moment longer, lightly running his finger along the burn under her tattoo. He would look out for her.

Guinevere was already in the wagon, and only lost consciousness after making sure her friends were safely settled in. Sera was curled up in a corner, covered in someone else's cloak. They would be all right. They were out. Guinevere did not know the little boy, but he appeared comfortable in the arms of a large and imposing looking knight. It was time for rest...

When Sera awoke, it was dark. They had stopped for the night, and she tried to get up. She had been cowering in a cell for four months, and had no urge to sleep any longer. She would stretch her legs. She nearly did. She had crawled to the opening of the wagon, and was about to step out, when a pair of hands stopped her. On closer observation, the pair of hands belonged to the curly haired knight who had given her his cloak.

"Where do you think you are going?" he asked.

"For a walk, remove your hands at once." Sera commanded. She had never liked the experience of complete strangers touching her. She especially didn't like when people tried to tell her what was best for her. The curly haired knight obviously didn't know this, as he proceeded to say,

"You shouldn't even be up! You need to regain your strength!"

"I am not child, so do not treat me like one." She hissed, green eyes narrowed. This was not going well. All she wanted was a walk. He had been kind earlier, but now, he was just in the way. She shook off his hands, and tried to make her first step. Her knees buckled beneath her and she fell. 'That's just perfect.' She thought, 'He already thinks I'm a child, now he'll think I'm some delicate flower, in need of protection.' And she did not need protection. All her life, she had been in the shadow of someone else. This did not really bother her. She learned to look after herself, because she was the only one she could count on. She didn't mind that though. You learn more when you are invisible. That all changed when she met Guinevere and Rebekah. They had banded together, and were closer than sisters could ever be. Sera allowed herself, her true self, to be seen when she was with them. With them, she was free. She forced herself to return to the present as gentle hands lifted her right off her feet, and carefully set her down on the edge of the wagon. No one had ever been gentle with her before. She had to put a stop to this madness, or she would get spoiled.

" I'm fine now. You may leave." She had not meant it to be a request, but that was how this knight was treating it.

The knight stood up straighter, chin held high. No woman had ever treated him like this. Women had always been attracted to him, generally simpering and fluttering their lashes. This woman seemed to completely miss his good looks. She behaved as if she was immune to his undeniable charm. No one was. This woman was issuing _him_ orders and clearly expected them to be followed. 'Well' he thought, 'she was just going to have to live with disappointment.'

"I have been charged with your care, and no, I am not leaving." There, that would put the woman in her place. She would be simpering for him by morning.

'Why won't this man leave?' Sera thought. Then she noticed she was still wearing his cloak. 'That must be it, he's getting cold, and he wants his cloak back' she decided, relieved. That had to be it, what else would he want?

"Oh, here's your cloak." Sera said, undoing the clasp and handing it to him.

"No, you keep it. You'll freeze. I wouldn't let a barn cat have kittens in shift you're wearing. You obviously need a new tailor." He said, shoving the cloak back to her, while critically eying the shift in question. It was filthy, ratty, and extremely thin. There was no way she would survive in that wretched excuse of a garment. Not for the first time, his eyes glittered at the thought of the man who had put her in it. Rebekah wasn't the only one with plans for Marius.

"No, really, I insist. Take it back." She said.

"Absolutely not!" He shot back.

This continued on for several minutes until the gentle giant known as Dagonet woke up and glared at them. Really, they were behaving like children.

"If you don't be quiet, you will wake the whole camp, and they will not be as kind as me. Now, stop fighting like children, and go to bed. You," he said, pointing to Sera, "Put on the cloak, or you will freeze in the night. Lancelot, find some dark little corner and mutter yourself to sleep, if you think it will help."

Both being highly embarrassed, they did as they were told, and went to sleep. They would settle this in the morning.


	3. Chapter three:Into the Woods

**Hello people. My computer has been completely wack, so I had to write this chapter entirely by hand first. That did not make me happy. Not to mention, I am almost out of Hershey's chocolate. I need my fix! Agh! Thanks to everyone that reviewed! Reviews are nearly as good as chocolate! If anyone has a suggestion for a title change, I'm all ears. This title sucks. Thanks again!**

Rebekah slept fitfully that night. She had so many questions, but no answers. Why were these knights helping them? Why had they bee there at all? So, the Saxons had finally come. How much damage had they done thus far? What were her people doing to stop them? Before she had been taken captive, their numbers had been dwindling. The situation could hardly be better now. What were they going to do?

Then, there was the all-important question. Did Arthur and his knights know who they were? Certainly, he knew they were Woads, but did he know that Guinevere was Merlin's daughter? That Sera was a direct descendant of the warrior chiefs of old? Did he know that Rebekah herself was a highly regarded leader of her people? She hoped not. For all the blood of Briton that flowed in his veins, he held his Roman blood in higher esteem. He could turn them over to the Romans. The Romans would use them to force the Woads to put down their weapons. Rebekah could not allow this. She would take her own life first. In the morning, she, Guinevere, and Sera had much to discuss.

Her mind weary, Rebekah's thoughts turned to Tristan, her reluctant rescuer. What had she seen in his eyes? Distrust, wariness, certainly. But there was also pity in his gaze, a bitterness. Why? He had killed hundreds of her kind over the years. What made her any different from the honorable dead? In her current state, she wasn't much to look at. Rebekah's face, once healthy and glowing, was now filthy and gaunt. Her eyes had dark circles under them from sleepless nights. She didn't even want to think about her hair, tangled and grimy. Rebekah had never considered herself vain, but she would feel better after a bath. Tomorrow, she would ask Sera about her hands. Sera was a skilled healer, and would know what to do. After such an exhausting day, and a restless night, sleep finally claimed her.

Guinevere woke with a start. She saw a piece of stretched cloth overhead. 'That's odd, what is that doing in my cell?' she thought. Then she remembered. Knights. Blinding sunlight. Bird song. A face was swimming before her eyes. They were safe now. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and sat up. She was in a wagon. Rebekah was on her left, and Sera was on her right. Rebekah was mumbling in her sleep. Something about braids, Saxons, and hands. It all seemed like gibberish to Guinevere, and, not for the first time, she worried about her friend.

They never spoke of it, but they both had duties resting heavily upon their shoulders. It made them who they were, but it was not without its troubles. She saw Rebekah struggling with herself when she thought no one was near. She saw the conflict in her eyes when she did what was best for her people and sacrificed herself. Everyone had a breaking point, and Guinevere was afraid Rebekah had reached hers. This journey would be difficult for all of them, if this was the case. Rebekah was always the one with the plans. She saw paths that others could never find. She could find a way out of any situation when she was focused. She wasn't focused now. She was far too worried to be focused. Guinevere prayed to every god she knew to help Rebekah, for all their sakes.

Rebekah woke up, but kept her eyes closed. Someone was watching her, she could feel it. Her eyes snapped open, and she was relieved to find Guinevere looking down at her. Rebekah smiled.

"I wondered when you would wake up. We can't have you lazing in bed all day." Teased Guinevere.

"Good morning to you too." Said Rebekah, trying to sound grumpy, but failing miserably in the attempt. "It's so good to see you!"

Rebekah sat up, and hugged Guinevere tightly. She was ashamed to find tears in her eyes. Really, it was like some terrible epidemic! At this rate she would be crying over a puppy or a sunset, or some other such nonsense. But it _was_ good to see her, to talk to her. They had tried communicating between their cells, but they were far too tired then. They hadn't really spoken for four long months. It had been far too long.

Rebekah released Guinevere, and both women turned their gaze to Sera. Sera's face was nearly hidden by hair that was so dark, it was nearly black. They could still see the slashes that lay beneath it, however, and they felt the same bitterness return. It might be over, but that did not change the fact that it had happened. Guinevere lightly brushed the hair out of Sera's face, and she stirred. She looked disoriented for a moment and sat up.

All three of them wore identical un-died shifts in various stages of disintegration. They were all filthy, all hungry, but they were free. Or, as free as a Woad could be in a caravan of the Roman Empire.

"What, no breakfast?" asked Sera, breaking up their gloomy thoughts.

"I'm sorry, my lady, there has been a dreadful accident in the kitchens. Something about a large rat in the soup. This is the part where you shriek with fear." Replied Rebekah.

Things were back to normal. Well, their friendship was back to normal. Almost. Rebekah could not quite dismiss her guilt for their condition however.

"This is all my fault. Someday, perhaps you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I should never have behaved as I did." Rebekah said, awkwardly. She had never been good at apologizing. It always came off sounding insincere. Her friends looked surprised.

"This isn't your fault, Rebekah." Guinevere stated. "If you hadn't done anything, we would have."

"Guinevere's right. Everything happens for a reason. You would not be the person that we know and love, if you had not reacted to the situation the way you did." Sera said.

"Look at us! What possible reason could there be for this?" Rebekah protested. "I'm sorry, I'm in a foul mood. We must talk, somewhere we can't be overheard. Something isn't right. We'll talk about what's meant to be later."

The other two nodded. They understood. They moved to the opening of the wagon. Sera was remembering her last attempt at getting fresh air.

"Perhaps we should try this slowly. Our bodies aren't used to all this movement." She suggested.

They moved together, supporting one another. Their legs screamed in protest, but held. They ventured into the woods. Rebekah paused. Someone was out there. She knew it. The air wasn't right. She spun around, and came face to face with Merlin.

Their gazes locked, and Rebekah felt distinctly uncomfortable. She doubted she would ever get used to that all knowing presence. Merlin's gaze shifted to his daughter, and they embraced. Merlin didn't like to admit, even to himself, that he had given up all hope of ever seeing his daughter again. He had tried to keep her out of danger, but it had found her all the same. Now he had to ask her to risk herself again. Not for himself, but for the future of all Briton.


	4. Chapter four:an unexpected visitor

**Hey! Thanks to my reviewers! I love each and every one of you! I'll try to get to some fun Romantic crap soon, I promise! I just have to set everything up, and don't want two-dimensional characters. If I make any mistakes, please let me know! If anyone knows were I can find a script that would be most helpful.**

**I just posted this, and then realized it had a huge unforgivable mistake! When I tried to repost it, it wouldn't let me! Arg! So, here it is without that error. **

Merlin Released Guinevere and spoke.

"Since you were taken, much has changed. Rome is leaving this island soon, just as the Saxon's are coming to claim it. Rome hasn't the strength or the inclination to repel the Saxons. They are leaving us to fend for ourselves. We have waited for this for so long. If we fail now, we may never have this chance ever again. The Saxons will see to it that we do not have the strength to fight back. Much depends now on you three."

"We will come back with you and fight. You hardly need to ask, Father." Guinevere stated. For something as important as this, Merlin seemed to be wasting time, when he could have simply taken their answers for granted.

"No. You must stay here and protect the knights."

"The knights? What do the knights have to do with any of this? They will leave when Rome does!" Said Sera, rather incredulously. Perhaps Merlin's mind was not as it once was. He had been in a position of power for so long, most tended to crack under the pressure.

"Arthur is their leader. He is of our blood. You haven't been with the tribe for some time, so you don't know how things are now. Our people are starting to lose hope. They are scattering, full of doubt. If we could turn someone like Arthur to our cause, we could unite them all. Finding the three of you will help, but it will not be enough. Don't you remember what it was like when you first came to us, Rebekah?"

She did remember. There had been an energy, an excitement in the air. She had thought that the mood was always similar at first, because she had nothing to compare it to. Now, looking back, she realized that there had also been renewed hope in the cause with her arrival. She was a symbol at the time, and later on, she was more than that. She had proven herself a true leader time and time again. With each success came a new wave of hope. She understood what Arthur's coming would mean. Woad children all over the country knew tales of Arthur and his knights. They inspired, they thrilled. The more mature knew them just as well as the children, though they tried not to show their amazement or awe. Arthur was a leader through and through. He was a living legend. If he was on their side, every Woad in Briton would be getting out their paint and weapons for the cause. This was their only chance, and it was best not wasted. If they wanted victory, they needed Arthur.

"Yes, I do. We will do as you ask." Rebekah stated simply. She would talk the others around later. "However, if we are to protect these people, we will need weapons."

"And you shall have them. Guinevere, a word, please..."

Merlin led Guinevere a short distance away from the others, just far enough so that they would not be overheard. He trusted Rebekah and Sera, but the situation was awkward enough without having them involved as well.

"Guinevere," he said, turning to his daughter, "You know I only ask of you what is necessary to protect our people, and I would like you to remember that as I make this request."

Guinevere was listening intently. Her father had never before started a conversation in this manner before. Her loyalty was to her people, and he knew that. She looked into his eyes, and saw an unfamiliar emotion there. Her father was unsure of himself, even nervous. This must be one interesting request.

"I have been following Arthur for many weeks, and I saw him carry you from that place." Even now, he didn't want to think of what had happened to her there. He didn't even want to call it by its proper name. _Hell._ That was what it was, _Hell._ He mentally shook himself. Now was not the time or place for such thoughts. "I saw his face when he looked at you, and he looked...different...he was making sure Woads were being properly treated, when normally, he hacks us up with pleasure. You intrigue him. Now what I am asking is that you...form a...a friendship...I'm not suggesting you grovel. He would think our people are weak, but don't deliberately insult him. I'm not suggesting you take him to bed. He needs to find something in this country interesting enough to make him stay. He needs someone to point him to the correct path. He needs someone to inspire him. You can do that. People flock to you naturally. Will you do this for us, daughter?"

Merlin had never been more apprehensive in his whole life. Everything that mattered, everything that they had fought for, now depended on this one answer.

Guinevere turned away from her father. He was right, she could do this. She made people feel comfortable, at peace. She had pride in her people, and, given enough time, she could teach that pride to another. But, Arthur was something else. She could not recall ever seeing the man smile. He always appeared pensive, unapproachable. He killed his own people. What was going on in that head of his, that heart? She was going to find out, or die trying.

"I will do this Father. I don't know how, but I will."

"Alright, bring him to me tonight. I will find you."

Merlin studied his daughter. She looked worried, but determined. He studied her physical self as well. Some of her fingers were dislocated, but other than being in dire need of a bath, she appeared well. He could fix the fingers himself, but Arthur would be able to as well. If Arthur did it, Guinevere would have an excuse to talk to him, intrigue him further. He would fix the others' hands now.

They rejoined the group, and Merlin reset Rebekah and Sera's fingers. Rebekah did not cry out, and Sera only whimpered. They had had much worse. Once they were back in place, Rebekah asked,

"Does Arthur know who we are?"

"I don't see how he would. We don't send a messenger to the Roman commander whenever some of our number go missing." Sera replied. "It would be unwise to tempt him, however, so perhaps we should not proclaim our authority too loudly."

"I agree. I must get back." He walked over to a horse standing at the edge of the clearing. It was weighed down with weapons. He outfitted each woman in turn, and left, giving them blessing as he rode away. They would need it.

They made their way back to camp, feeling energized. They had a mission, a purpose, other than to simply survive now. It had always been better that way. Guinevere looked at Rebekah. Her friends eyes were already sharper, her mind fast at work. This was good for her. It provided the focus she had been lacking earlier.

The sun was rising now, and the camp was stirring. They would be moving soon. They took the opportunity to do some stretching. They had been in a cage too long, and if they were expected to protect people, they needed their old strength and agility back. Guinevere's hands were bothering her, but she bit back the screams. They would be back to normal soon. They formed a circle and began. When they were done, they noticed they had an audience. A sleepy looking band of knights were watching them with interest. They had just been rescued yesterday, and they were already up and about this morning. Lancelot was particularly confused. This was the girl who couldn't even stand on her own last night? She had been transformed into a warrior woman literally overnight. He glanced at her hands, and noticed they had been fixed. Who had done that?

Tristan watched too. He was a greater distance away than the rest of the knights. He was used to solitude. Being a scout, he rode ahead often, with only his hawk for company. He was not lonely though. He had enough human interaction as it was, in his opinion. One night getting drunk with Bors was enough to convince most humans of this. The rest of the knights thrived in each other's company. His relationship with the rest of the knights was one of deep affection, but they tended to drive each other mad with too much exposure to one another. The knights loved Tristan like a brother, but many found his lack of expression or dialogue unsettling. It was not that Tristan had no emotion; it was simply that in his opinion, if you couldn't control those emotions, they ruined your vision. You couldn't plan properly with emotional complications. Not only that, you gave the enemy the upper hand. They could see your weaknesses. As he watched the Woads stretch their limbs, he remembered his promise to himself. He would watch out for the woman with the tattoo on her face. She looked perfectly able to look after herself now, but all the same...He couldn't forget the state he had found her in, and probably never would. He brought himself back to the present. He looked at her, and saw her smiling. Oh, no. Now he was thinking about her smiling. He was thinking and worrying enough about her as it was. He had an entire Saxon army to be worrying about already, his mind did not have room for smiles.


	5. Chapter five: Horses and Gods

**Hey, people! I almost made it through an entire chapter with no chocolate! Score! I had a lot of trouble with the ending's poor attempt at romance. If you review, you can tell me how I screwed up! What do you have to lose? Nothing! Alright! Its hard to include Tristan right now while he's scouting, so right now we are kind of focused on Arthur/Guinevere and Sera/Lancelot. I happen to like Sera a lot. She reminds me of me a bit. Let me know how it is!**

The caravan was getting ready to move. Everyone had been properly fed, and Rebekah, Guinevere, and Sera returned to the wagon. They discussed battle tactics, and the Saxon's fighting style. The Saxons tended to go more for brute force rather than the stealth the Woads relied on. They used armor piercing crossbows that were very different from the traditional Woad bow. While the Woads fought to defend their land, the Saxons fought to conquer. Rebekah wondered what stories the little Saxon children listened to around the fire. Were they told battle stories too? Were they taught about honor? Did they take pride in their peoples accomplishments? Did they know what went on here? Rebekah had never really been around anyone who wasn't a Woad before, and often wondered what went on in her enemies' heads. During battle, it was best not to think of them as human, but without a blade in her hand, she wondered.

She saw Tristan whispering to his hawk. Beyond the warrior, he was a man. She watched him all morning. He rarely spoke to the other knights, though Rebekah suspected this was normal. Tristan struck her as a man of few words. He had tattoos on both of his cheeks that looked similar to her own. His were black, while hers was blue. He had a curved blade strapped to his back, and Rebekah had no doubt he knew how to use it. Perhaps she would test his skill herself in the future. Tristan rode up to confer with Arthur, and continued on, presumably to scout.

Arthur entered the wagon shortly after. He first spoke to Dagonet, who was charged with their care.

"How is he?" Arthur asked, looking at Lucan.

"He burns. Brave boy." Dagonet was another man of few words.

Arthur approached Guinevere. He reached for her hand and examined it closely. It was wrapped in what appeared to be an old rag. He removed the wrappings and nearly flinched at the sight of her fingers. He had seen them before, but they still shocked him. How could anyone do this to another human? Many who called themselves Christians viewed all others as inferior life forms. Arthur had never seen Pagans in that light. He respected their faith, and expected them to respect his. His knights might jest about it on occasion, but then it was all in good fun. This was not fun. The God he knew was merciful. The God he knew did not approve of violence against those too weak to defend themselves.

"Some of your fingers are out of place. I have to put them back. If I don't do this, you may never use them again." He had his emotions under control now, his face was once again a mask of control and calm. Inside he was screaming with this poor woman as he forced her fingers back in line.

Guinevere's eyes never left his face. She had seen a flicker of shock earlier, but now, his face had reverted to that cool aloof expression that betrayed no emotion. Her father had been right. She was different to him. She knew that as his hands tightened on hers, and the pain ripped through her body. At first she made no sound, but the pain grew until she let out a scream. She collapsed against him, no strength left in her. Finally she lifted her head, and looked into his eyes, ready to search for any signs of emotion.

"They tortured me with machines." Her voice was barely more than a whisper now, her breath not behaving normally. "They made me tell them things...that... I didn't know to begin with..." She paused. There was something there. It was shame. This Roman commander, a Christian, was ashamed of his own people's behavior. He did have a heart.

"I am Guinevere. You are Arthur...The Briton who kills his own people." Her strength gave out, and she slumped over, but not before she saw his brow crease. He was unsure how to respond to such a statement. Yes, he was different.

Arthur held the unconscious Guinevere for a long time, not sure of what to do. Finally, her gently settled her into the bedding, covering her with a blanket. He left with only a glance at the other two, quickly assessing that they were healing. He had to get out of that wagon, away from those thoughts. He had fought against the Woads for so long, that he rarely thought about why he was fighting them in the first place. It seemed simpler to follow orders, rather than question them. He did not want to think about that now, when his freedom was so close.

Sera was growing restless. She had always disliked small-enclosed spaces, and her four-month imprisonment had only increased that dislike. She left the wagon, and walked alongside it instead. Her feet were wrapped in rags, and quickly grew cold. Sera did not care. The wind was biting at her face, but she smiled. She could see her breath and laughed. If a stranger had watched this scene, they would have thought her mad. Sera was happy to be able to feel the cold, but see the sky at the same time. She loved the sound of the trees, the wind, the birds. She could listen and look for as long as she wanted. Before, she had taken such things for granted, but now she reveled in them. She had found her peace.

Lancelot glanced back from his position at the head of the caravan. The Woad with no sense of humility was walking along, having a private moment. Her legs were holding up just fine now, and she was smiling. The slashes on her cheek had been seen to, and she looked radiant in the afternoon sun. He was concerned about her all the same. Her legs may have been strong before her imprisonment, but it would take time to rebuild that strength. Lancelot pulled back to speak with Arthur. He was uneasy. They were moving to slowly, and the Saxon army would be moving swiftly, having no wounded with them.

"Arthur, we cannot help these people. We are moving too slowly, and they won't make it anyway." He thought of the haughty Woad and stopped. She had a fire about her, a strength. She would heal, given time, and she would help the others. They didn't have time for her to heal. "If we run into the Saxons, we will have to fight!" it ended up being rather half-hearted however. His thoughts about the Woad had slipped in, diminishing his urgency.

"And what do you suggest we do, Lancelot? Leave them behind for the Saxon's? You know what they would do to the women don't you? That girl you pulled from the dungeon, Sera. She would provide some nice entertainment for their army, wouldn't she? If we need to, we can put the wounded on horses. You are right, if we meet the Saxons, we will have to fight. Save your anger for them." And with that, he rode on ahead, not wanting to have to deal with more from his friend today. He was getting too much conflicting advise, from himself and everyone else. He needed to be by himself for now, alone with his thoughts. His men trusted him to bring them back to the wall alive. He could not betray that trust.

Lancelot rode separate from the other knights. He thought about what Arthur had said, and knew his words to be true. He thought of the Woad Arthur had called Sera. Sera being at the mercy of an entire Saxon army. Sera screaming. He had carried her out of that dungeon, he had seen that terror. He never wanted to see that again. Never. He would see to it that Sera was never that terrorized. His mind made up, he rode back to her.

"Would you like to ride with me? You must be tired." He said, before remembering how touchy she was when anyone might suggest she had a weakness. _Dammit. _Here it was, it was coming...

"As I have told you before, _Sir, _I do not need a nursemaid. I'm sure you have someone else to pester."

"Actually, no. You are the only one at present who requires my attention. I did not mean to suggest you were weak. You seemed to have held up alright for four months of torture, I doubt a walk would hurt you now." That was a lie, but, as his mother always told him, it was best to humor the invalid. "It was merely, that I could use the company. After too long with Bors, one tires of constant belching."

Sera considered the request. It seemed reasonable, and her legs were getting tired (no need for him to know that.) The man had saved her life after all. She couldn't tolerate more talk of battle, anyway.

"If it is truly company you seek, you may have it. I know the feeling of being far superior to one's fellows." The last part was a jest, and she was happy to see him smile. 'He should do that more often' she thought to herself. A smile transformed his face. He was by far one of the most handsome men she had ever met in her life. He knew it too. He reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. He pulled her up in front of him on the saddle.

"We've never been formally introduced. I am Lancelot."

"Sera."

"Well, now that we've met, who fixed your fingers?"

Damn. She hadn't even thought how she would explain that. Her mind spun, looking for any logical excuse.

"I did. I am a healer." It was a weak excuse but she hadn't had much time.

Lancelot had noticed her pause, and wondered. Why was she lying?

"If you could fix them yourself, why didn't you do it before?"

"What makes you think I didn't? I fixed them a few times, but they kept on dislocating them. After a while, I decided to spare myself a bit of pain in the long run."

That stopped him. He wanted to press further, but he didn't want to cause her to recall painful memories. He searched for a change of topic.

"So... You're a healer?" There. That was a perfectly safe topic.

"Yes. I am I warrior, but I prefer healing when there is a choice. Its harder to give life than to take it." It was true. You could cut short someone's life with a flick of the wrist, but to save them, it took much more time and energy. She saw the faces of the dead in her nightmares, screaming. She didn't like adding more to the mob. She fought for her land, she fought for her people. She liked to move, she liked the exercise, but she did not like thinking of all those souls waiting for her when she made her last journey.

"Then you are a better warrior than I. I was never trained in healing, and have no way of repaying my debts. You will be judged one day, and your Gods will smile upon you."

"My Gods? Are they not the Gods of your people as well?"

"I do not believe in any God. I've been living too long in hell."

It sounded like such a definite answer. If she could have seen his face at that moment, she would have seen something else there. Lancelot wanted desperately to believe in something...anything. He didn't want to believe he was alone in this world of sadness and death. He tried so hard to believe in the Gods of his homeland, but he had seen far too much over the last fifteen years to justify such beliefs. What kind of God let innocent women and children be slaughtered in their sleep? What kind of God let men fight each other over something as dead as this land? So many men had died at the edge of his blades. Men that believed in these ever-elusive Gods. They were far better men than he. They were fighting for their land, their freedom, their lives. What was he fighting for? This was not his land. These were not his people. He had no love for Rome. Rome had taken him away from his homeland, from his people. He was fighting for his own worthless life. No one loved him, for all he knew his family could be dead. He loved his friends, but when they were released, they would go their separate ways. What would he do? He might jest with Gawain about sleeping with his wife, but Lancelot would never be satisfied with what was someone else's. He could go to Rome with Arthur, but he didn't think he could stand to be around all those hypocritical bumbling fools for too long. No matter how pretty the women were, they would not be worth the trouble. He could go back home, but what if nothing was left there for him? Could he handle that? When he had left his family, he had promised to return. Now, he was not so sure. He had been in this cursed land for fifteen years, and dammit, it had become a home to him. He loved the terrible gloomy weather. It gave one something to complain about, if not something to talk about.

He could think about this later. At the moment, he had a lovely lady sharing the saddle with him, and now was not the time for such depressing thoughts.

"We all have our own beliefs, our own thoughts on life, even if we do not claim a religion. You are not alone." Sera said quietly. She had meant to be reassuring. His long silence had made her think. What visions haunted his dreams?

It was as if she had read his mind. Lancelot was surprised at how observant she was. She couldn't even see his face, yet she had picked up his train of thought. That was a new experience for him.

"How are the others?" He asked, changing the subject again.

"Rebekah-the one with the tattoo on her cheek-had her fingers reset, I bandaged her up. She'll be fine. Guinevere's the same. She doesn't have burns like Rebekah, though. Lucan, the boy, his arm will heal, and his fever is going down. He'll be all right. We all will."

"You certainly seem to be feeling better than you were last night..." he said, teasingly.

"That was a once in a lifetime occurrence. I wanted to make you feel needed. You looked so pathetic, just standing there. I figured it was the least I could do to appear helpless in your presence. You did save my life, after all."

"Ah, so you are a real softie at heart, wanting to help poor pathetic me...what with my desperate need to be a hero..." He was grinning.

"What can I say...perhaps it's those puppy eyes of yours that get to me. That need to feel needed. You need to work on your stern face, you know that, right?"

"Duly noted, my lady Sera."

"That's another thing we need to talk about. We cannot keep up the pretense that I need special treatment. All this 'my lady' business must stop. Really, I'll be spoiled by the time we reach the wall!"

"You've never been spoiled before, have you? Well, you're in luck. I happen to have special spoiling talents. What shall it be first, a back rub or a foot massage?"

"Actually, I was in the mood for some sparring. When we stop for the night, would you oblige me?"

Lancelot had never fought a woman outside of combat with the Woads. Even then, he liked to pretend they were men. These warrior women always reminded him of his mother and sister back in Sarmatia. If Sera really wanted a good work out, he would give it to her. It was the least he could do. If he didn't, she would find someone else to spar with, who wouldn't necessarily be watching her for signs of fatigue. He would spar with her, but he had no desire for her to crumple up into a ball from exhaustion afterward.

"Certainly, my lady. It would be an honor to spar with such a lovely opponent." He knew it would irritate her, the constant signs of chivalry. He couldn't stop grinning. He really was pathetic.

Sera was grinning too. No matter what she said, it was kind of nice being treated like something special every so often. She would enjoy their sparring that night. He had better not go easy on her. She needed to be able to gauge her strength properly.

As they rode on, they spoke of their homes, their traditions. Lancelot had only seen abandoned Woad settlements, and was interested in knowing what an inhabited one was like. Sera had never been anywhere but her homeland, and wanted to know about this place, that had produced so many legendary warriors. Sera was careful not to mention her status or anyone else's in the tribe. She liked this man, but still...He was not of this land. She was not sure were his loyalties laid. She asked about the other knights. She was told entertaining stories about Bors' eleven bastards, Galahad's terrible luck with women. She laughed with him. She would enjoy getting to know these Sarmatians.


	6. Chapter six:Tattoos and Braids

**Hello! You must tell me how to fix this madness! I'm not good at this romantic crap. The only romance that I have ever had in my life has been with chocolate. Really, I could use some help here! Please? (Author flutter's her lashes) I'll be your bestest friend forever!**

Tristan was heading back. The caravan was in sight, but even if it hadn't been, they were making enough noise to wake the dead. Didn't these people know anything about stealth? If he got killed over this, he would be very upset. As he neared, he caught sight of Arthur. His friend looked troubled, and he was only going to add to his worries. Well, he might as well get it over with.

"Arthur. We should stop for the night. We need everyone alert for tomorrow. We have to cross the lake, there's no way around it. It's mostly frozen over, but, all the same...I'm not sure it will hold." There. It was out, and Arthur would know what to do. He always did.

Arthur continued to stare stonily ahead. More bad news, just what he needed. One more obstacle, between his knights' safe return to freedom. What Lancelot had said was true. If they ran into the Saxons, a fight was inevitable. Crossing the lake would be slow, and he could all but hear the war drums pounding behind him. To give himself thinking time, he fell back in line, next to the wagon. Guinevere was sitting, propped up against the side of it. She was wrapped in furs, and was watching him.

"My father told me tales of you..." She spoke with a slightly ironic smile on her face.

"Oh yes? And what did you hear?" He was interested in her response. What would a Woad know of him?

"Fairy Tales. The kind you hear about people who never exist. People so brave and selfless they cannot be real. Arthur and his knights. A leader both Briton and Roman. Yet you gave your allegiance to Rome-to those who take what does not belong to them. The same Rome that tore your men from their homeland." She watched him closely, as she always was now, her expression cold. Well, her father had told her not to grovel...

Arthur's self control vanished. This was personal. This _person_ dared to question him? What did she know of it?

"Do not pretend to know anything about me or my men." His voice full of annoyance, and anger. She had no right, no right at all to speak with him in that fashion.

"How many Britons have you killed?" She continued her interrogation calmly, rationally.

"As many as tried to kill me. It is the natural state of any man to want to live." It was true. All of his killings had been in self defense, with the exception of the monks he had walled back in yesterday, but they probably weren't dead yet, so that hardly counted.

"Animals live! It is the natural state of any man to live free in his own country! I belong to this land. Where do you belong, Arthur?"

Ah, that was the question. Arthur had thought it was Rome, but after his meeting with Marius Honorius, he was not so sure. It certainly wasn't here. Rome was leaving this island. The Woads had no love for him, and he could not see his knight's families putting up with him for too long. He would have to think hard upon this later. Searching for a change of subject, he noticed her hand, peeking out from the furs.

"How is your hand?" he did want to know. It was more than simply covering up an awkward silence.

"I'll live, I promise you." She did smile then, he really was all right sometimes, for a Roman. Arthur smiled too. She was all right really, for a Woad.

"Is there nothing about my land that appeals to your heart?" It came out sounding more flirtatious than she had originally intended. What was she doing?

"Your own father married a Briton. Even he must have found something to his liking."

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that. It was true. His mother was of this land, and when he thought no one was looking, he would smile at the thought. The land's weather may be foul, but it was so green and alive, that he could see why so many Woads had given their lives to defend it. But some Woads fought and killed the innocent, he reminded himself. He remembered his mother's screams and shook himself. He couldn't think of that now, he had enough on his mind as it was.

Tristan's return had not gone unnoticed. Rebekah's eyes followed him from the wagon. He was troubled, but his face was remarkably skilled at concealing emotion. Most people wouldn't have noticed it. Rebekah wasn't most people. What was wrong? Soon, the caravan stopped. It was growing dark, but Rebekah had assumed that they would continue on, through the night. The Saxons would be moving quickly, and they could not afford to linger. Rebekah needed to know what was going on. You could not plan properly without reliable information, and she knew just the reliable man to ask. Rebekah left the wagon, and approached Tristan, who was setting up his own camping supplies. His hawk was nowhere to be seen. His back was to her, and he showed no signs of acknowledging her presence. He knew she was there. He could hear her soft breath, the quiet rhythm of her footsteps. Rebekah cleared her throat, hoping that he would turn around. When this failed, she walked around to face him.

"Why have we stopped?" This man would not appreciate pleasantries, and Rebekah saw no need to waste his time or hers.

"What is your name?"

Rebekah had forgotten that they had never yet spoken. It had been a long couple of days, and she felt like she had known him for quite some time.

"Rebekah. I heard the others call you Tristan."

"They were right."

His answer was short and crisp, yet he still hadn't answered her question.

"Why have we stopped?" If he didn't tell her soon, she would scream. She had fine self-control, up to a point, but as earlier events had indicated, that self-control had a limit. She had been charged with protecting the knights, and she took that job very seriously.

Tristan studied her with his cool grey eyes, noticing her frustration and annoyance. She would not want the facts sugar coated. She wanted the facts plain and simple. Those facts might take a long time to lay out.

"Perhaps we should sit down." Tristan said, indicating a log to his right.

Rebekah eyed it suspiciously, as if this was some sort of test. When she could think of no reason for Tristan to trick her, she assented.

Once they were settled, Tristan began.

"How much do you know of this area?"

"Not much, we haven't been above ground for the majority of our time in this pleasant district."

"Then you wouldn't know about the lake."

"What lake?"

"The one that's directly in our path. It's mostly frozen over, but it will be dangerous enough crossing in broad daylight, let alone in the dark."

The thought was reasonable, she had to admit.

"And what of the Saxons? Will they be taking a break as well?" She knew this wasn't his fault, but no one else was around to blame.

"No. How are you with your weapons?"

Rebekah raised her eyebrows. Most men didn't bother to think that women would even consider fighting, even those who knew better.

"I am quite competent, I assure you. I've been training with weapons since the age of six."

"And how old are you now, you hardly look old enough to fight."

"I will have you know I am nineteen. I've been fighting with my tribe for over four years."

"Good, we have another fighter with battle experience...what of the others? Do they fight as well?"

"Yes. Guinevere is a year younger than me, but she has been fighting for over four years as well. Sera is twenty. She has been fighting for over seven years. She can heal as well."

"That will be useful. I fear we will have need of a healer before the end."

They sat in silence for a while. It was not uncomfortable; they had both had their share of talking for now. Rebekah looked toward Tristan's things and noticed his bow. It was different from hers, and her fingers itched to try it. Guinevere might be able to beat her in archery, but she was no slouch.

"Tristan, may I try your bow?" The question was hesitant. This surprised both Rebekah and Tristan. Rebekah was used to people offering to do her favors, so it was a new thing for her to ask for one.

"I suppose." He picked up the bow, and carried it into the center of the clearing. He selected an arrow, and handed it to Rebekah. He indicated a tree that was far out of range. Rebekah looked at him, questioningly.

"There's no way I'll hit that."

"Poor archery skills?" He knew this was not the case, but always enjoyed to watch people's expressions as they saw the range of a Sarmatian bow.

Rebekah squared her shoulders, and adjusted her stance. She could do this. She would not give this foreigner the satisfaction of seeing a Woad warrior fail. She pulled the bowstring back, past her ear, and let the arrow loose. It flew quickly and was deeply imbedded in the tree. Rebekah stared at it in wonder. Her jaw had dropped, and she did not bother to close it. She wanted this bow. She _really _wanted this bow. Tristan had gone back to sit on the log and she followed, still clutching his bow. She made her decision, and prepared herself for humiliation.

She sat right down in Tristan's lap and began to twirl a braid around her finger. She looked deeply into his eyes, and said, her own eyes wide,

"Tristan, have I ever mentioned how increasingly attractive I find you?" Her voice had a flirtatious edge to it, yet his face was still unreadable.

Tristan stared back at her, stony faced. Women tended to look at him, but few approached. He knew he exuded a forbidding air, and most were slightly scared by it. He was not fooled, however. Rebekah wanted the bow. That was all she wanted. Finally, he let out a small chuckle.

"If you want a bow, you'll have to ask Jols for a spare. You're not getting mine."

Rebekah let go of his braid and sighed.

"Oh, well. It was worth a try." And with that, she extracted herself from Tristan's lap, and went to find Jols.

Tristan watched her go, an amused expression on his face. That had been interesting. It had been a long time since any woman had dared to sit on his lap, and then, it had certainly not been because she had liked his bow. He was so preoccupied with this thought that he didn't notice right away that his hawk had returned. She looked rather annoyed at this, and squawked.

"Are you jealous? My, this has been a strange night."

And it had been. Tristan did not usually socialize with people he didn't know. Hell, he barely talked to his friends. Generally, he had his longest conversations with his lovely and talented hawk. He had a feeling that this would not be the case any longer. So did the hawk, as she took off, in search of someone else to appreciate her genius.

Rebekah returned to the wagon with a smile on her face. Jols had given her a spare bow, and she cradled it to her body, as she would a child. Guinevere saw this, and rolled her eyes. Really, that was one of the most pathetic things she had ever seen.

"If you could spare a moment, Fulcinia is giving us all baths and a dress." Guinevere sniffed Rebekah, and grimaced. "It smells like you could use one too."

Rebekah stopped, and gawked at Guinevere. She hadn't even considered her appearance or stench before she had sat herself down in Tristan's lap. She was so used to men being unable to resist her looks that she didn't even think about it anymore. What would Tristan think of her now? Why did that matter?

Guinevere raised an eyebrow. What was wrong with Rebekah tonight? One moment she was all happy and starry eyed, the next she looked ill. She really did need a bath. It would do wonders for her mood.

"Come on, no more stalling." And with that, Guinevere dragged Rebekah into the wagon. Fulcinia was already at work, washing Sera with a damp rag. Sera was staring hard out of the sheer curtain. Lancelot.

Lancelot was outside the wagon, looking in. He had wondered earlier where Sera's tattoos were. He had seen Rebakah's on her cheek, and Guinevere's on her legs, but before now, he had never seen Sera's. He saw them now. Her whole back was a mass of swirling color that looked like wisps of smoke. Sera had noticed his stare, and returned it. He knew he shouldn't be looking, he knew it was improper. He had seen a lot of naked women in his lifetime, and had never felt his gaze to be improper before. Then he realized, he didn't want to put Sera in the same group as all the other women he had slept with, and never seen again. He wanted her to be different, for reasons he couldn't comprehend. Was this love? Was he starting to see the ever-elusive gods in her?

When Rebekah looked out of the sheer curtain and saw him, he looked away. What would she be thinking? What would Sera be thinking? Damn. He had never been so confused in his entire life. He had never really cared what anyone else thought about him. What was going on here?

After each girl had been bathed, Fulcinia handed her a dress. Sera's dress was a mint green, Guinevere's a blue-green. Rebekah's dress was a light blue-grey. They were each given slippers, so they no longer had to wrap their feet in rags. This was a welcome change.

Rebekah smiled. She felt better now, more herself. She didn't smell! She wondered if Tristan would like the dress. Well, she would find out soon enough, Lancelot had promised Sera a good sparring session, and it was likely the other knights would like to see it too.


	7. Chapter seven:Sparring and Surprises

I'm going to be on a road trip to bring my sister to college in Arizona. We live in Minnesota. It's a long drive. We'll be back next Monday, but I'll try to find a computer so that I can update before then. I will also try to retain my sanity. It's no joke, being stuck in a moving vehicle with one's entire family. I do not recommend the experience. Who knows, I might even run out of chocolate! (Bum Bum Bah!) Now I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I'll stop now. Don't cry for me, Argentina. Well, I'm off to the wars. If I do not return, wear my handkerchief beside your heart forever. (Note. That last part was a line of Cleon's From Tamora Pierce's Protector of the small series. I never really liked him after he started dating Kel, but this was during the pre-Kel era, so it's all right. It is an excellent line to use amongst one's peers.)

At long last, it was time for the highly anticipated sparring between Lancelot and Sera. Their friends were cheering them on, all smiles, wondering who would end up on top, so to speak.

Sera had hiked up her skirts, and tied back her sleeves so that they would not be in the way. She was slightly apprehensive about this sparring match. She kept on seeing Lancelot looking at her through that sheer curtain, wondering why he was looking at all. Sera was not a conventional beauty. Most found her near black hair and sea green eyes odd, not to mention unattractive. She had bedded other men before, but it had never been for any other reason than to kill time before a battle. She did not try to fool herself into thinking that these men had found her attractive. She was available, while other beauties were not. She didn't blame the men. They were who they were meant to be. Lancelot was who he was meant to be as well. It was just a question of finding out what that was. Why did he look at her like that? He was a devilishly charming and handsome man, who could have any woman that he wanted. Why was he wasting his time with her?

Sera selected her weapons. She chose a short sword and dagger. If she wanted to show off, they would have been throwing knives. She wanted a more strenuous workout, however, and so here they were, preparing to spar in Lancelot's strongest battle skill. She would not have to kill anyone tonight; it would simply be a great chance for movement, and display of skill. She smiled. Her dreams would be untroubled tonight.

Lancelot had already removed his armor. He would not need it, and it was heavy. This would just be a friendly match. That was it. Just a friendly match. He exhaled. Would he be able to land a hit? No, he answered himself, he would not. Her face was still marred from her unhappy side trip, and he had no wish to add to her injuries. He knew her well enough, however, that he realized she would not appreciate him holding back. He would have to be very careful that she did not find out. He picked up his twin swords, and prepared to be beaten by a woman.

They circled each other, identical reckless smiles on their faces. This would be fun. Lancelot feinted to Sera's right, and when she moved to block him, he swung to her other side. She blocked that as well. He was being so obvious that even a first year swordsman would have picked up on his intent.

"You're not going easy on me, are you Lancelot?"

Damn. He supposed that was rather obvious. He wasn't used to pretending like this.

"Whatever do you mean, my lady Sera?" His face, the picture of innocence.

She wasn't going to let him get away that easily. She attacked him mercilessly, hoping that he would react instinctively, rather than think about everything first. Gradually, it worked. Sera smiled. It was about time.

Lancelot was beginning to gain the upper hand, when he remembered that he was supposed to be going easy on her. He started to ease up, but her eyes stopped him. Her gaze was so sharp; she hardly needed the weapons in her hand. It was a look that clearly communicated 'If you even think of letting up on me, I will cause you serious harm.' Lancelot happened to like his body the way it was, and had no desire to lose any body parts. As he was thinking about this, however, Sera's leg snaked around his, and she had him flat on his back, her sword at his throat.

'Well, I'm glad this isn't humiliating or anything...' Lancelot thought as he stared up at the warrior that was Sera.

"I yield, my lady Sera. That was some nice foot work."

Sera lifted the sword from his neck and helped him up.

"You were holding back." She pouted, a scowl on her face.

Lancelot looked at her, and came to a decision. It was now or never.

"You're right. I was holding this back." And with that, he dragged her towards him, and covered her mouth with his.

His arms were around her waist, one hand dragging a lazy finger up her spine. 'This was alright,' Sera thought. 'He's really not all that bad at this.' Lancelot knew at that very moment that there was nothing else in this world that he wanted more than Sera. Not to see home again, not to see God. She was everything. There was nothing else. Eventually, they remembered that they were not alone. Bors yelling obscene comments interrupted their reverie. The other knights were whistling, being used to Lancelot's antics. Rebekah and Guinevere, however were gaping at Sera, not sure what to think. Sera never did anything like this. They had never heard her speak of any man in particular, so it was a complete shock to see her go all starry eyed over some knight that had crossed their path. That was _really_ odd. She looked so happy, though. They had never seen her that happy. If this Lancelot fellow did that for her, he must be all right. If he did anything to hurt her however, they would personally see to it that he never had any children. (With the possible exception of number three.) As they came to this unspoken agreement, they smiled. It would be all right.

Tristan watched from the other side of the fire, his face not showing his amusement. So, Lancelot had charmed himself a Woad. It didn't surprise him really. Lancelot simply loved women, even if they tried to kill him, as this case showed. If he was not careful, one of these days they would find him in bed with his throat slit. Tristan did not think that this woman meant his friend any harm, however. She looked a bit dazed at the moment, and would not be fit to kill anyone for several hours. That was fine with him. She would be fully recovered by the time they crossed the lake, should any trouble arise.

His eyes swept the rest of the group and landed on Rebekah. At first she had looked rather shocked by the spectacle in front of her, but now she was grinning like a fool. What _was _it with this woman? Couldn't she ever decide what to feel? He studied her closely, noting that she had bathed and changed out of that dreadful shift. He hoped she had burned it. It would not evoke pleasant memories. He realized that he was taking far too much interest in a woman that would probably get him killed. He had not forgotten about the Saxons, as everyone else seemed to. He saw Rebekah sit down in the grass, as a light snow began to fall. She was enchanting, staring at the stars, seemingly oblivious to his gaze. Suddenly, her eyes locked on his and held. He remembered the first time he had looked into those eyes. She had been a wild animal then, just as likely to snap at help as harm. Now, her eyes held something different. Calculation, curiosity, yes. His eyes held the same emotions. They did not need to speak. Words would be tedious at this point, they were unnecessary. Tristan wondered how many people were able to conduct conversations this way. Probably not many. It was a sign of astute observation that few possessed.

Rebekah stared right back at Tristan, daring him to look away first. His gaze never faltered, and Rebekah smiled. He wanted to play, did he? She turned away, heading in the direction of the wagon. Tristan followed, just as she thought he would. When he reached her, she smiled again.

"Jols gave me a bow!" she didn't even bother to hide her excitement. What was the harm in him knowing that?

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Did you sit in his lap and play with his hair too?"

"No, his hair isn't nearly long enough for that." She said, deliberately not answering the lap question.

"Ah." He really didn't want to ask it, but then again, he wanted to know. You could never have too much information, right? "So, did you sit in his lap?" there. He had asked. Now, all he could do was wait for an answer, and hope that if there was a God that he would show no signs of embarrassment. He didn't think he could handle her knowing how uncomfortable this was for him.

"No, I most certainly did not sit in his lap. He wasn't sitting down. I simply pouted a bit. That generally works for me. When it doesn't, I start threatening people."

She said it so matter-of-factly that Tristan started. This was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted. She knew how to get it too. On anyone else, the lap and braid routine would have worked like a charm. Well, she had gotten what she wanted in the end. You had to admire that. She didn't just pout for what she wanted, she fought for it too.

"You should rest. You will need your strength for tomorrow." He said, and abruptly left. He had spoken more to this woman in one night than he had spoken to everyone else all week. That could not possibly be healthy. He was loosing his mind. That was the only explanation. It was not a happy thought, however, so he forced his addled brain to other less depressing matters, such as their impending doom. Damn. Was he getting sarcastic with himself? If he kept this up, he would start acting like Lancelot, letting everyone know how he felt. Lancelot had done that tonight, all right. No one was left to wonder how he felt about that Sera girl. He could do with shielding his emotions every so often.

'I'm glad that wasn't confusing' thought Rebekah as she returned to the wagon. Guinevere was already inside, looking pensive. She looked up as Rebekah entered, and her expression changed into one of mixed amusement and mischief.

"So, you sat on Tristan's lap and played with his braids, did you?"

"You heard that?" asked Rebekah, looking horrified.

"Of course I did. _Please_ tell me this was after your bath."

"No such luck. I _really_ wanted his bow..."

"You sat on his lap because you wanted his bow...Is that the best excuse that you could come up with?"

"What?"

"You two have been staring at each other since you first met. It's a bit frightening, actually. So, what does he smell like?"

"How would I know? And we have _not _been staring at each other. We're supposed to be protecting the knights, remember?" The first part was a lie. She knew what he smelled like. It was a combination of pine and earth that was oddly pleasant, though not overpowering. He was a scout, and couldn't smell too strongly. It was a nice scent...Agh! Why was she thinking about Tristan's scent? That was simply odd.

Guinevere smiled as her friend's emotions played across her face. It was amusing, really. Rebekah never liked to be side tracked by anything. She had a single goal. To return Briton to the Britons. She didn't like to have anything in the way of that. Rebekah hadn't yet realized that one could find love without everything else being put on hold. Guinevere might be a year younger, but she knew that already. She would bring Arthur to her father tonight, and hoped that he would follow. Short of abducting him, she really had no ideas as to how to lure him into the forest. Then she remembered his eyes on her. Yes, he would follow her, if only to satisfy the curiosity that he tried so desperately to hide.

Sera and Lancelot huddled together at the edge of the clearing, trying to ignore everyone else around them. Sera reached for his hand, and linked their fingers. Lancelot brought their joined hands up to his lips, and began gently nibbling on her knuckles. She was so happy, that she didn't rebuke him for being gentle. She didn't mind that so much now. She had a slight smile on her face, and moved in, nuzzling his neck. He drew her into his arms, and just held her. It was nice really. Usually, all he had to do was grab a wench, and that was it. This was new, and he liked it. He held her hands again, examining them closely.

"I don't care who fixed your hands, I'm just glad they're feeling better."

So, he still didn't believe her about her fingers. Her head snapped back, and she searched in vain for a proper reply to such a statement. Could she trust him?


	8. Chapter eight: Curiousity and Fear

**Hi, people. I'm in Kansas. I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I don't have much time to type it up, and it was emotionally draining/disturbing to write. Let me know how it is, I'm not sure if I got it right. Thanks for all the reviews!**

Guinevere did not feel the cold. She had been worse off before, at least now she had a cloak about her form. The snow fell softly around her; her feet barely making any noise as they glided over the forest floor. She was nervous, but it didn't show. She was an ambassador for her people now, and could show no weakness. Deliberately, she stepped on a twig.

Arthur's eyes snapped open. Someone was out there.

Guinevere.

She looked so...intriguing...there in the shadow of the trees. Her gaze flicked over him briefly before it returned to the forest. Where was she going? He got up as quietly as he could and followed her.

They were not the only ones awake. Lancelot looked curiously after them. What was going on here? Arthur wasn't the type to go for a quick tumble in the woods. He and Guinevere had been eying each other since they met, and Lancelot wondered if they realized how obvious they were being. It was odd, really. Arthur, who always tried to ignore his mother's blood was now falling in love with a Woad. The world really was full of mysteries.

Guinevere herself was full of mystery. There was no denying that the woman was beautiful, but she seemed so...distant, aloof. She lacked Sera's warmth. Well, Sera was warm after the initial frost. Guinevere seemed to be pure ice. Around Arthur, though, she was different. She was alive. They would be the making of each other. Lancelot would have great fun watching the process.

Dagonet sighed. The boy, Lucan, was still asleep on his lap. He wanted to get out his bedding, but he didn't want to wake the child. The boy needed his rest. Dagonet's eyes wandered across the fire to were Marius was speaking in hushed tones with his men. What were they up to? It couldn't be good, whatever it was. As far as Dagonet was concerned, Marius was a blight upon the race of men. He did nothing but cause pain and suffering for others. And now, he was supposed to protect Marius, for his own freedom. The Gods had a peculiar sense of humor. He hoped they were enjoying this, because he certainly wasn't. He could have no respect for a man who would beat his wife, even without his other offenses, including torturing the slumbering child in his lap.

He saw Fulcinia approach her husband tentatively. It was the stride and posture of a woman who had given up all hope of happiness in life. Dagonet hated those mannerisms. He had seen far too much of it over the years. Yet, this woman had another side. She had helped the Woads, bringing them food, just talking to them. Later, she had tended to their wounds wordlessly, bathed them, given them her own clothing. Before she had defied her husband quietly, but now she did it openly. She wasn't holding up well. She was shaking, clearly afraid that her husband would strike her for what she had done. Dagonet watched them carefully. He would do what he could for this woman, Roman or not. She spoke in a hushed whisper, and he barely acknowledged her presence. He was dealing with important matters, and had no time to give her the beating that she so obviously deserved. He waved her away with an impatient hand. She nearly dashed away, but instead, went across to the other side of the fire, to check on Lucan.

Lucan was fast becoming dear to her, as dear as her own son, Alecto. She was grateful to this knight (Dagonet was it?) who was looking after him so well. She gently picked up the boy, and Dagonet gave her a thankful look. He went to his horse, and retrieved his bedding. When he returned, Fulcinia was still there, cradling Lucan. Her fingers lingered over his curls, her lips forming a small smile. She would look after him now.

"He can sleep next to me, he didn't want to stay in the wagon with all those giggling girls." Dagonet said. He didn't think the girls were the giggling type, but Lucan was adamant. Girls had cooties.

Fulcinia looked up at him in surprise. Men didn't talk to her very often, they were worried Marius would get the wrong idea. Her experience with me thus far had not been satisfactory. She had grown up with her father and uncles constantly watching her. They didn't love her, they were just looking to see if she had any redeeming qualities. At the age of fourteen, they had sold her off to Marius. She had been a pretty young thing then, though now, no one would recognize her. She was only a shadow of the girl that she once was. She was a woman now, a woman with few joys, and rarely smiled. She lived in constant fear, you couldn't retain your soul in such an environment. She found joy in her son, even if she had had to share Marius' bed to get him. She would endure any sort of torture for her son. He was her world. Now, Lucan would join that world, and this man wanted to help as well. Most men saw the position of nursemaid as an embarrassment. He didn't. He was gentle with everyone, a rarity of a man his size. He had scars slashing across his face. He was by no means a handsome man, but he was so kind that hardly mattered. It could do no wrong to speak to him.

"Thank you, I'm sure he would like that." She deposited Lucan in Dagonet's arms, and quickly turned and walked away. There. She had done it. She had spoken to a man and not collapsed in fear. It was progress. Perhaps, someday, she would work up the nerve to take her son away from that bastard that she had been sold to. That was a laugh. She knew she would never have that strength. Some women had it. She didn't. What would she do? Where would she go? Marius would never stand for her running off, especially with his only son. His only legitimate son, anyway. God only knew how many bastards the bastard had. She didn't really mind though. If he was sharing a whore's bed, it meant that he wasn't in hers. She did feel sorry for the other women though. As much as Marius liked to believe it, he was not God's gift to women. He was a selfish lover, if lover was the correct term. He didn't care about a woman's pain or discomfort. As long as he got what he wanted, it didn't matter to him.

Fulcinia reached the carriage that she was to share with Marius. She curled up into a ball, and rocked herself, crying softly. Perhaps he would be too busy tonight to come to her, perhaps he would be tired. But she knew, deep down, that there was a price to be paid for what she had done. For as much as he claimed to be a representative of God, he only used God to get what he wanted. He was the worst kind of hypocrite; he was a shame to God, if there was one. If there was a God, why did he let all of this happen? Why did he allow Marius to live? She prayed to whatever God was listening to help her, to save her. If they wouldn't do that, at least would they give her the strength to take her own life? Take it for her? Her tears streamed faster now, she couldn't stop them. Hwat was she going to do?

She could smell his foul odor, hear his heavy, lusty breath. He was here. There was nowhere to hide, she couldn't fight him. He grabbed hold of her hair and she heard someone scream. It was her. And then he was gone, there was another face above her. Dagonet. He gathered her in his arms, and rocked her gently, as he would a child. Marius was lying unconscious at his feet. He had heard Fulcinia's screams, and come running. That son of Satan had hold of her hair, his fist poised to strike. He didn't even think, he just reacted. He gave Marius a hard blow to the back of the head. He would wake up grumpy in the morning. He would worry about that later. For now, he just held the crying woman closer, trying to erase what just happened. He wanted to erase every painful memory, but he couldn't. He couldn't fight this. It was done, there was nothing he could do about it. He carried Fulcinia to the wagon where Rebekah and Sera slept softly. He woke Sera and set Fulcinia gently down beside her. She would be taken care of, and Sera would be able to protect her from any other...unpleasantness...

Dagonet returned to Lucan, and checked to make sure his sword was within his reach. He would need it soon. He had made an enemy of a powerful Roman. When Marius awoke, he would be after his blood. Dagonet liked his blood where it was for the moment.


	9. Chapter nine:Castration with blunt objec...

**I'm Back! I was so excited to take a shower that included Shampoo _and_ conditioner. Words cannot express. After staying in crap hotels for an entire week, my own room and bed were quite welcome. Thank you for all the reviews! **

**Dazzler420- Not telling!**

**Nianko- Thank you so much! That's so sweet!**

**Archersaim- I did indeed survive the drive. We substituted Willie Nelson for a highly boring audio book on John Adams. It's no better, I assure you. I made a single bar of Hershey's last an entire week. It was quite a trial.**

**BebegurlPR- Here it is!**

**Camreyn- Thanks for the thoughts!**

**TalkIsCheap- I was telling the story from Fulcinia's POV. I personally find Dagonet to be cute in a big loveable teddy bear sort of way. **

**MonDieu666- Sorry, I don't have a script. I went out and bought the book, but a lot of the lines and scenes are screwed up. It's helpful for structural purposes, though. In my opinion, Tristan is far superior to any other life form. He has a really sexy accent, don't you think?**

Fulcinia was almost feeling safe, wrapped in Sera's arms. Sera wouldn't let anyone touch her, Sera wouldn't let any harm come to her. Her tears had run dry, and her mind was starting to clear. It had happened so fast. Marius was on the ground, Dagonet standing over him. What had he done? Marius was an important man; no one defied him and got away with it. Dagonet had helped her, knowing that. He was looking after Lucan without any signs of regret, though the child was a Woad. She could trust him.

Sera held Fulcinia tightly. She wasn't usually into violence, but she had a few very pleasing ideas about what to do the next time she encountered Marius. Rebekah woke up soon after Fulcinia had arrived, and she too had a few ideas about what to do with the pig. They stayed awake long after Fulcinia closed her eyes.

"...So, you'll hold him, while I slowly cut off his fingers with a blunt knife..." Rebakah said, half serious.

"No, you're holding him, I'm better with knives than you anyway." Sera said, pouting a bit.

"That's throwing knives, not normal everyday use."

"Cutting off someone's fingers is normal everyday use?"

Rebekah sighed. Sera was right.

"Fine, you can cut off his fingers, but can I at least be the one to castrate him?"

"Alright, but I think Guinevere will want to be in on this mutilation."

"Where is Guinevere? She's missing all the fun."

They hadn't seen Guinevere since the sparring match that night. It had been several hours since then, and still she had not returned. Just then, Guinevere crept into the wagon. She noticed them awake and a guilty expression formed on her face. She hadn't told them what she was going to do. She didn't know why, exactly. It made a bit uncomfortable, she wasn't sure what their reaction would be if she told them that she was suppose to cozy up to a Roman commander.

"Where were you? We were worried." Said Rebekah. Her friend looked a bit breathless, and looked oddly guilty. What was she trying to hide?

_He turned away from them, his expression cold. What did they know of it? They had killed her. They had killed his mother. And now they wanted his help._

"_It was love of your mother that freed the sword, not hatred of me...Love, Arthur." Merlin was beginning to lose hope. Arthur was unwilling to set aside the loss of his mother to listen to reason. This man was their only hope, and he was turning away from them._

_Guinevere didn't say anything. She was hurt that he was refusing even to listen to her or her father. They had nearly had a friendly conversation before, didn't he remember that? Did he think his mother would want him to hold a grudge against her own people? Arthur left without so much as a glance at Guinevere. She was only looking after her own; she had no real feelings for him. It was all a game to her, wasn't it? He got his emotions under control, and calmly returned to his bedroll on the ground. When they reached the wall, the Woads would be on their own. He had no obligation to help them further. That would be it. _

_Merlin turned to his daughter. Her eyes were sorrowful, her shoulders hunched in defeat. This was not like her. She never let anything stop her. Perhaps she had changed during her long imprisonment. Perhaps she no longer cared. But that was nonsense. Guinevere would always care._

"_There was nothing you could do, Guinevere. Get some rest. I must return to the wall. Our people have been without their leader for long enough. You did what was asked of you, you tried your best. I can ask no more of you. Just keep them safe. He may yet change his mind."_

_With that, he kissed his daughter's brow, and hugged her tight. They may never see each other again. She hugged him back. He never blamed her when she failed. Not many people could claim that of their fathers. She knew she was extremely lucky, but she wasn't feeling lucky now. She was feeling inadequate. She drew back and attempted to smile. Their people would fall, all for her insufficient performance in this matter. She should have tried harder. _

"_We will see each other again soon, I can feel it." She said, with more confidence than she felt. There was no need for him to see her fear. _

_Merlin nodded, and slipped deeper into the woods, in search of his horse. Not many of their people could ride, as they only had the horses that they managed to steal. Merlin, being a leader, could. It was much easier on a man of his years than running everywhere. He wanted to leave the horse with Guinevere to protect her, but knew that he would never be able to make it back to the wall in time without it. He mounted the horse and rode off, fighting the urge to look back a dozen times. It would not do for her to see how anxious he was. She needed to be focused on one thing, and it wasn't him._

_Guinevere watched him go, the sadness settling in. Finally, she shook herself. It was time to sleep. She walked back to the wagon, only to hear Rebekah and Sera, awake and talking. What would she tell them?_

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to Father for a bit..." she responded and turned away. She needed to make this sound insignificant. She didn't know if they would be able to forgive her of her failure. They would tell her it wasn't her fault, but what would they be thinking?

"Merlin was sticking around so you could talk to him whenever you wanted, when the Saxons are coming, and he is needed back home?" Asked Rebekah, incredulously.

She was doomed. Rebekah wouldn't let this go. With a sigh, she said,

"Arthur refused us. He won't help."

There was a long silence, as all three women contemplated what this would mean to their cause. They would have to come up with something miraculous, spectacular. If their people had no faith in them, all was lost.

"He could change his mind, maybe he doesn't really know what to do himself..." Sera said, though her words sounded lame, even to herself. Guinevere was beating herself up over this. It wasn't her fault if this Roman's skull was too thick to comprehend their undeniable logic. She wouldn't let her just sit there and feel bad about this.

"There was nothing you could do to change his answer. He has hated us for so long, there wasn't much hope anyway."

It was true, Guinevere supposed. It didn't make her feel any better though. She had accomplished the impossible before, why couldn't she do that now?

"Well, if we want to change his mind, we could start getting to know his knights better. He trusts their opinion. If they trust us, like us, he may reconsider." Said Rebekah. It was true, but she knew deep down that she was saying so for rather selfish reasons. She liked spending time with the knights. They liked a good laugh, and had a simple outlook on life. Keep your goblet filled and live. She liked that. They enjoyed the female company, as long as they weren't being prudish about it. Their jokes tended to be on the bawdy side.

There was Gawain, who would tell anyone who would listen about the beautiful Sarmatian woman that he would marry when he got back home. Galahad, the youngest. He had a beard, probably in an attempt to prove to everyone how manly he was. He would probably look better without it. Dagonet, who had looked after them with such care, and helped Fuclcinia as well. Bors who had eleven bastards, a lover named Vanora, and a friendly rivalry with Lancelot. Then there was Lancelot himself, a lover of women, always with a charming comment for everyone to hear. And Tristan, the man who kept to himself. She would like to know more about that one. His thoughts would be very interesting to decipher.

The other two agreed. It was a good plan, the best they had at the moment. What could it hurt?

"What were you two talking about earlier? I thought I heard something about castration." Said Guinevere, changing the subject.

Sera and Rebekah exchanged meaningful glances.

"Sera's going to cut off his fingers and I'm going to castrate him." Said Rebekah, matter-of-factly.

"Who?"

"Marius."

"While he definitely deserves that, he's under the protection of Rome at the moment." Said Guinevere.

"He tried to beat and rape Fulcinia tonight. Dagonet knocked him out." Said Sera.

For the first time, Guinevere noticed Fulcinia curled up in the corner of the wagon. She was such a sweet and gentle woman, that she inspired great protective thoughts in Guinevere's head. Her eyes narrowed at the thought of that ass of a man who would do such a thing to a woman.

"You can't hog all the fun. What do I get to do?" Asked Guinevere.

"See, I told you she'd want in on this." Said Sera to Rebekah.

Rebekah sighed. She wasn't sure she could deny Guinevere the pleasure and honor of being the one in charge of the castration. Guinevere's morale needed a boost.

"I suppose you could take my job. I'll just beat him senseless. Deal?" It was a rather glum thought, but oh well. What were friends for?

They shared identical devious grins, and turned in for the night. Tomorrow, Marius would be getting quite the surprise.

Marius awoke. His head was pounding. He had a sudden flash of memory. A hard blow to the back of the head. He felt the back of his cranium, and sure enough, a large lump was forming. That giant of a man had attacked him, all for some ugly wench. Bitch. She was probably sleeping with Dagonet. She had only given him one child, thus was God's punishment upon adulterers. God's punishment was too slow for this. He would have to do it himself. He wouldn't stand for being taken away from his land by common pagans. He could punish Fulcinia at the same time as he was taking control of the caravan. That little boy, Lucan was it, he had seen how she looked at him. She loved him. She needed to be taught a lesson. The boy would be the perfect means to do so. He would take care of Dagonet later.


	10. Chapter ten:Sighs and Ice

I am being forced into marching band! Arg! For some reason it's supposed to be a comfort the that "The Band Always Wins." Who cares? You still have to march around in circles on a Football field... What's with Football? I mean really...Guys jump on top of other guys, and they run around. Hmmm... Sorry, I'm rambling.

**Nianko-I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Jemiul-Here's the update!**

**TalkIsCheap- The three 'Woad Chicks' thank you for your kind offer, but their team is complete as is. Your sentiments are shared by many. Thanks for the review!**

**Shallindra- I love Tristan too (in case you couldn't tell) When did he die of a broken heart? I'll see what I can do about that!**

"Grab him!" shouted Marius. It was morning, but the beautiful sunrise did nothing to improve his temper. If anything, it was a sign that God was blessing his plans. God rewarded those who did His will. His soldier's grabbed Dagonet, who was instantly awake and began to struggle violently. Lucan saw this and screamed. They were going to kill his friend. Marius came up behind him, and soon had a dagger at his throat. Lucan stopped struggling. He had thought he was forever free of danger. He was wrong. You couldn't hide from what was to be, his mother had said. She was right.

Dagonet had struggled free of his captors, but his blood ran cold when Marius' voice rang out again.

"I have the boy!"

He turned and saw Lucan, dagger at his throat. He couldn't do anything to help him. Anything he did would provoke Marius further. He was about to drop his weapon, when a hiss of air blew past him.

Sera woke early. She sharpened her knives. She wanted to keep them blunt and prolong Marius' pain, but knew that it was best to keep it quick and simple. She didn't want anyone to interfere. Guinevere heard her up and checked her knives as well. They would be fine. Rebekah was the last up, much to her displeasure. Already, she had given up her part of the brutality, and now, they would think she was lazy. She let out a sigh. It didn't matter who did it, just that it was done. Castration would take care of several problems. It would be a blessing for the world.

Fulcinia opened her eyes sleepily and looked around. She was in the wagon, not the carriage. Her eyes quickly settled on the three women she was sharing it with. They all smiled at her.

"Don't worry, Fulcinia, we have a plan." Said Guinevere.

"A plan for what, exactly?" she asked, confusion evident on her features. They were nice girls, to be sure, but they were a bit violent for her taste at times.

"Marius cannot continue as he is. I don't think you'll have to worry about him raping you ever again." Said Rebekah. She always liked helping people, and couldn't wait to hear Fulcinia's joyful response.

"What? You can't do that! He'll kill you! He'll kill us all!" she exclaimed. They wanted to help, but this was not the way to solve the problem. She tried to find some other way around it, but couldn't. Except for Marius' eventual death. She shouldn't tell them, though. They would kill him instantly. She held no love for the man, but she had never rejoiced at the demise of anyone. Some people used their lives to bring happiness to others. Some people did not. Everyone has the ability to do good for the world. It is our choice what to do with our lives. Fulcinia did not believe that one was born into a certain station in life, and would remain there forever. You chose your own fate, your own destiny. Men did, anyway. Women had fewer options, and rarely changed their fate. Most were born, had children and died. It was a cycle that remained unbroken, but for the women in front of her. They were of a marrying age, yet they were not married. They could have children, yet they did not. They didn't seem to regret it either. They were content with their lot in life. When that wasn't the case, they didn't take no for an answer.

Perhaps she could go to Marius and convince him not to harm Dagonet. If he saw her, he would probably forget all about him. She was what he really wanted. Dagonet didn't matter, but she did. She was his, lower on the list than the horses, but his possession all the same. When something of his didn't serve its function, they were disposed of. She was such a possession. She was expected to stand behind him, meekly do his bidding, take the beatings as she got them, and entertain him at night. She did not do that. This confused him. To him, women served a purpose. They nurtured and pleased. That was it. Fulcinia did more than that. She was an abomination, a sinful creature of the devil, sent to test his faith. He would prevail.

Fulcinia made her decision. She would go to him now. She made a hurried excuse to the others and exited the wagon. Her eyes swept the clearing and quickly found her lord and master. She let out a shriek. He had little Lucan, dagger poking into his neck. She didn't think. She ran at Marius, dragging at his arm, begging franticly for him to let go of the poor child. Marius would have none of it, and threw her to the ground.

Guinevere, Sera, and Rebekah heard Fulcinia's shout. They sprung into action, Guinevere grabbing her bow, Sera grabbing her knives, and Rebekah unsheathing her sword. If that son of a pig so much as touched her, he would be very dead, very soon. They ran to the commotion, and quickly assessed the situation. Guinevere shot Marius right in the center of his chest. Sera took out a few soldiers with her knives, and Rebekah grabbed Lucan. She set him under the wagon, and turned, ready to defend.

Arthur and Lancelot, hearing the commotion came to their aid. Lancelot, noting Sera's aim grinned a bit.

"I see your hands are feeling better. They seemed a little stiff last night."

Sera didn't bother to respond. Now was not the time to flirt.

Bors came charging in on his horse, battle-ax lifted high.

"Do we have a problem? Huh?" He growled. He made a rather intimidating figure, so high above the ground.

"You have two choices. Fight for us, or die." Said Arthur, coolly.

The soldiers looked at one another. It wasn't much of a choice. They dropped their swords. Jols gathered their fallen weapons. They wouldn't be needing them for now.

Fulcinia and Dagonet both hurried over to Lucan. He was shaken, but he was not physically harmed. They glanced at each other briefly, a silent 'thank you' from Fulcinia, and an equally quiet 'it was nothing' form Dagonet. Then their focus returned to the boy.

Guinevere, Sera, and Rebekah stared down at the body of Marius Honorius, powerful Roman. They never had the chance to reward him for his hospitality, or his fine performance as husband. There was nothing to be done now. He would not feel anything that was done to him. Guinevere wrenched her arrow from his heart, wiping it on his robes before returning it to her quiver. No use wasting such a fine piece of work. Sera was relieved, in a way. There was no doubt the man deserved it, but she didn't want the nightmares that such an activity would bring. Rebekah was cold. She hadn't gotten to kill anyone that morning. Come to think of it, it had been at least five months since she last killed a man. It had been far too long.

Tristan rode up on his horse.

"How many di' ya kill?" asked Bors.

"Four." He said, shortly.

"Not a bad start to the day." Remarked Rebekah. She was jealous.

Tristan dropped a crude crossbow at Arthur's feet.

"Armor piercing. They're close."

Arthur nodded.

"Let's get moving."

Lancelot, Tristan, and Arthur approached the Woad women. They weren't moving, and time was running short. Lancelot touched Sera's arm, and she turned.

"We have to go, would you like to ride with me?"

"Sure, I'll go get the rest of my weapons." She turned, and ran to the wagon.

"Come on, we have to go." Arthur said.

"Oh, well. I guess it wasn't meant to be, Guinevere." Said Rebekah, with a sigh.

"We should have done it last night, then none of this would have happened." Guinevere said, annoyed with herself.

"What are you talking about, what should you have done?" asked Lancelot.

"Well, Sera was going to cut off his fingers, Guinevere was going to castrate him, and I was going to beat him to a bloody pulp. He tried to beat and rape Fulcinia last night. Dagonet knocked him out." Explained Rebekah.

All of the men winced and pressed their legs together at the mention of castration. Their eyes narrowed when the attempted rape was brought up. And Dagonet, knight in shining armor, coming to the rescue. It didn't surprise them that much. Dagonet didn't care who he upset, as long as he was protecting people.

"Remind me never to upset you." Lancelot said to Guinevere. He was still wincing. He liked his body as it was. It was a wise man that covered his tracks.

Sera returned, fully armed, and she and Lancelot went off. Tristan hadn't said a word yet, and he studied Rebekah closely. She was disappointed, that was plain. Most women would be relieved. She was not.

"Come on Rebekah, we should get back to the wagon." Said Guinevere, dragging her away from the body, towards the wagon. Arthur had not spoken to her. He was distant, and dislike reverberated from his entire body. She had to get away. Rebekah noticed her friend's mood, but said nothing. Sometimes, you had to deal with things on your own. Guinevere needed to do that now.

The caravan was moving, and it was moving fast. They all knew what was at stake. Rebekah checked all her weapons. She would be needing them.

Tristan rode ahead, following Arthur's orders. The Woad Rebekah confused him. One moment she was flirting like a barroom wench, the next her eyes were cold, ready to kill. She was a world of contradictions. Full of laughter, full of silence. Full of love, full of aggression.

He reached the lake, and stopped. The others caught up with him. They all looked over the expanse of ice, wondering what the day would bring. Battle, death, life?

Dagonet wondered too.

They all spread out to cross the ice. It was very thin. Tristan was at the front of the group, leading his horse. The ice began to crack under his feet, and he braced himself, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't battle; he couldn't waste his life on something as trivial as ice. It was not the glorious finale that he had planned. He did not fall through, but they could go no further. They all turned to Arthur, waiting for his decision. Suddenly they heard them. The drums. They were close.

The drums pounded in Dagonet's chest as he looked to Lucan and Fulcinia. They needed to be protected. He would do that. He would die protecting them.

**So, does he live or die, aye? Te he he! Sorry, I couldn't resist.**


	11. Chapter 11:insult with good intent

**Tresor pour toujours- This wasn't just thankyous before- I have no idea what happened. I hope you like it! **

**Well, I threw in a bit more Sera/Lancelot mushy romantic crap. Hope you like it. **

**TalkIsCheap- Daggy-Baby? That's a nice name. What a terrible threat! Thanks for the thought. You're such a loyal reviewer.**

**WarAdmiral- I'm glad you like the Dagonet/Fulcinia angle. Here's some more Sera/Lancelot mushy crap.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- Yes, that was disappointing for many. Not telling!**

**Elvenstar5- Whoa! Take it easy there! I'll see what I can do. :)**

**Verteri Lunum- Thanks, I'll take your thoughts into consideration.**

**Nianko-Thanks for another lovely review! I'll think about it!**

Before the battle

"Have you ever ridden before?" asked Lancelot.

Lancelot had pulled Sera up in front of him. He still needed to hold the reigns, and it was the perfect excuse for him to put his arms around her.

"Yes. Often there is no time to waste when someone is injured." Perhaps she shouldn't have said that. Only powerful people among the Woads rode horses. "Sometimes, the healer in charge was too busy and sent me instead." It would not do for him to know that she herself was the healer in charge of all the other healers. She wouldn't break her promise to her friends, not even for him.

"So, will you fight the Saxon's with us?" it had to be asked, and he desperately wanted the answer to be no. He had a feeling, however, that she would be just as stubborn as she always was on this point. He wanted her to live to a ripe old age and die in her sleep, dreams untroubled.

"Of course, need you ask?" She didn't know how he would react to this. Having another fighter would help them out, it was true, but Lancelot liked her a bit, didn't he. Then again, he liked his fellow knights as well. 'And does he kiss any of them?' the annoying little voice in her head asked. As much as it annoyed her, the annoying voice was right. For whatever reason, she was different than the men. The thought made her smile a bit. Then, another idea occurred to her. He had let her win last night. He knew he could beat her and thought that she would be no match for the Saxons. That made her plenty upset. The nerve! But, was he right? Was she really feeling herself yet? No, she wasn't. If anyone else had suggested that she wasn't able to fight, she would have been off their horse in an instant, blade at their throat. But here she was, still on the horse, his arms around her. She was going soft. That wouldn't do. Her smile had long since disappeared. She held her head high, a neutral expression on her face.

He didn't see the smile. He didn't see the change, but he felt it. Her body went rigid. He had done it again. He could practically hear her thoughts. She would probably be insulted, enraged that he would say such a thing, even think such a thing. He tried to coax her to relax by nibbling at her neck a bit, but knew before her elbow connected to his gut that it wouldn't help. He winced but said nothing for several minutes.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" he asked, lamely. He usually could come up with something better to say, to make her smile, but not now. He like talking to this woman, she had some very interesting things to say, but now, she wouldn't even open her mouth. "Damn…I'm sorry, alright?"

"Sorry really doesn't help me here, Sir knight." She said, tightly.

He groaned inwardly. He rarely apologized, and when he did, it was very hard on his pride. Now, she wouldn't even listen to what he was forcing out of his mouth.

"I just don't want to wade through your blood. Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to walk through a friend's blood? It's ten times worse to walk through a lover's."

"I've waded through more blood than you could possibly imagine. I've stood over countless friends, watching life flee from their bodies."

"And lovers?"

"I do not take lovers, as a rule. They complicate things, besides the fact that a man would have to be insane to want me."

"Well, _that's_ pretty insulting. I find my mind to be quite un addled from wanting you."

Sera's spine went even stiffer, if that was possible. What was he talking about? He really had gone mad. She looked over her shoulder, studying him, a frown on her face. He met her gaze. ('Glare more like' he thought) They studied each other for a long time, taking no notice of the other riders.

Galahad was watching the exchange with interest. He had never seen a woman unnerve Lancelot to this degree. He was usually the one to be unnerving. But there he was, having a stare down with a Woad. Galahad sighed. He liked women very much, but the romance was rather one sided. He glanced down, and was surprised to find Rebekah walking next to him.

"Could I have a lift, Sir knight?" she asked. She couldn't stand being in the wagon any longer, Guinevere wasn't speaking. She felt sorry for this knight. He obviously was not gifted when it came to women.

"Certainly, my lady." He said, surprise and shock echoing in his voice. He gave her a hand, and she grasped it, hauling herself up. Galahad tried to start up a conversation about the weather, but Rebekah cut him short.

"When are you to be released from service?" she asked.

"We should have been free by now, but for this last mission. We are supposed to bring the boy, Alecto, back to the wall. He's the pope's favorite godchild. Why would a Roman family live so far into Woad territory? Because they're idiots, that's why, idiots! Marius Honorius was an arrogant fool. I'm not sorry he's dead."

'Well, that was quite an outburst' thought Rebekah. This one had a temper. He shouldn't have told her that much. She knew where to come, should she need information in the future. Tristan would never let so much slip to an enemy. Were they enemies anymore? Yes, as long as they served Rome. She had to be careful about what she said.

"So, what will you do when you are free?"

"I'm going home. I hate this island."

"Tsk tsk, Galahad, now you've insulted me. And here I was going to introduce you to some of my friends when we got back to the wall." She said playfully.

"You don't have a sister, do you?"

She laughed. He really did sound desperate.

"No, but Guinevere and Sera have some cousins. Then there are a lot of other pretty Woad women around. Why don't you ask about me? I'm hardly out of your league." She teased.

"Are you kidding? Tristan would eat me alive!"

"What does Tristan have to do with this?" She was genuinely confused now. "He hates me. I talk too much."

"He doesn't hate you. He can't put you away in a corner, that's all. He's used to being able to label someone, and not have to think about them later. You don't fit any mold for too long. It's quite entertaining to watch, actually. I've never seen him confused before." Galahad smiled. Tristan confused Rebekah too. "Not to mention, you made his hawk jealous. That creature picks up on things."

Now Rebekah was simply dumbstruck. His hawk was jealous? How could anyone tell? Looking for a change of subject, she saw Sera and Lancelot, staring stonily at one another. "Are they still at it?" she asked.

"It seems so. Odd, if you ask me. A bit scary, actually. Lets give them a bit of privacy, eh?"

And with that, he urged his horse forward, so that they could talk to Gawain.

"Gawain, did you hear? Rebekah's going to fix me up with a beautiful Woad woman!"

"Really? Is that before or after I have swept one of her feet, and convinced her to leave this forsaken land, and come home with me?"

"I thought you wanted a beautiful Sarmatian woman." Galahad said, a bit confused. He hadn't even noticed Gawain's stab at him.

"That was before I met the lovely Rebekah. Dearest mine, come with me from this cursed place. We'll ride away from here on the wings of love." He teased.

"You're beginning to sound like Lancelot. Alas, gallant knight, my heart belongs to another." She gave a deep theatrical sigh at this. She was grinning like a fool.

"Ah, well, it was worth a try. Can't say I blame you. He's a fine man. Just a bit silent. And Stoic. But, I'm sure you'll get along fine."

"Who's a fine man?" she asked.

"Why, Tristan, of course. Did you think no one was around to see you toy with his braids?" Gawain responded.

"I'll never live to hear the end of that, will I? I just wanted his bow, that's all." She said, with more force than she normally would.

"You can have my bow, if you sit in my lap." Announced Gawain, gleefully.

"Really, aren't you all supposed to be chivalrous? I am a lady! You don't really think I'll sit in just _anyone's_ lap, now do you?" She asked, her grin coming back.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to live with disappointment."

Bors had been listening with interest. It was odd to see their scout taken with any woman, let alone a Woad. Yet, she didn't see it. For some reason, it made him think of Vanora. They had been together for years, yet sometimes she seemed so oblivious to his affections. He really should marry the woman. Show her that he was serious. They had twelve-no eleven-children. One would think after such a time she would see that he had never loved anyone as he loved her. Maybe giving the children names would be enough to convince her of this. It was worth a try.

"Vanora'd like you." He said to Rebekah. "She generally meets me at the gates with a slap."

"Smart woman. She'd have to, to keep you in line, Bors." She grinned at him. She liked him. She was fully prepared to like any woman that he did.

Lancelot and Sera were still having their staring match. Neither side was willing to give up. Finally, Sera leaned forward (or backward, as she was still looking over her shoulder) till their noses touched. She waited another second, and threw caution to the winds. She kissed him.

The kiss was different from any other they had shared. It was full of promise. She wanted to reassure him. She would be fine, or as fine as any of them would be by the end of this. She wasn't about to let some Saxon bastard kill her without a fight. They needed all the fighters they could get. She was one of them, and would see this battle through.

She broke the kiss, then kissed his brow, and turned back. His arms, still holding the reigns, snaked around her, holding her tightly. He pressed his face into her hair, her neck. He never wanted to let go, but knew he must. Sera found his hands and held them. He needed the silence now.

The lake was in sight, Tristan at its edge. Rebekah watched him. He was worried. That did not bode well for their crossing. The ice must be very thin. She dismounted and thanked Galahad for the ride. They would not want to be riding on this surface. Tristan looked back and caught her eye. Time past, and they developed an understanding. Then he turned away, slowly crossing the ice. Sounds of cracking quickly followed, and the entire caravan came to a halt. Suddenly, the loud thunder of drums rang out. Now was the time, there was no escaping it. Rebekah went to the wagon and retrieved her weapons. It was time to end her blood fast.

**Muh, ha, ha! Now you have to wait even longer to find out if Dagonet dies or not! Ha ha ha! **


	12. Chapter 12:Prizes and Fur

**Score! We have mushy crap _and _battle. Wow. Now you _really_ have to read this. For all of you who think Rebekah is a pansy, prepare yourselves. **

**Nianko- I like Dagonet/Fulcinia too!**

**BillieLiv- I don't know. Will I, or won't I? Perhaps you'll need the tissues for the mushy romantic scenes.**

**SunsetSparrow- You're welcome!**

**MonDieu666- We could probably talk about Tristan's sexiness all day. I know what you mean. It was so sad to watch him die over and over again!**

**Elvenstar5- I'm glad I'm glad I'm glad!**

**WarAdmiral- I like the mushy stuff too. Lancelot's horse is used to him doing odd things in the saddle. He was just going along with the other horses. While I agree it would be extremely entertaining for them to run into a tree, it didn't quite fit the mood, nor do I believe such an intelligent animal would do such a thing. Thanks!**

**ChildlikeEmpress- Te he he! Cliff hangers are fun!**

Lancelot took a deep breath. The drums were pounding in his ears, and he hugged Sera tighter. They would have to fight now. Sera gently extracted herself from his grip and went to find Guinevere and Rebekah. She already had all of her weapons strapped to her body.

Arthur was instructing Ganis, a villager.

"You was lead the people to the wall." He turned to Marius' soldiers. "This man is your captain. You will follow his orders as you would mine."

Ganis looked ready to protest. He could fight!

"Ganis, you must do this, you I need someone I can trust to lead these people to safety."

"But you're seven, against two hundred!" he protested.

"Ten, actually. You could use our bows." Corrected Guinevere, bow in hand.

Arthur studied her, saying nothing. What was she doing? She could get away safely, yet she stayed. He knew that they could use all the help they could get, so he wasn't about to turn her away. He saw Lancelot give Sera one last pleading look before he turned away.

Alecto watched from the wagon. They were too few. He walked up to Arthur.

"I am able, I can fight."

"No, there is something you can do, and that's get back to Rome." Said Arthur. He remembered their talk earlier. Yes, Rome would need him.

Fulcinia held her son close. She would never have allowed her son to fight. She needed him. She looked to Dagonet. What if he didn't come back? She was struck by a sudden sadness, an ache of the heart. They were loaded into the wagons, and she watched him sadly. Who knew if they would ever meet again? Lucan didn't want Dagonet to fight either. Who would protect him from all of the scary girls in future? Fulcinia was nice; he liked her, but some things you simply couldn't ask a woman.

The knights and Woads lined up, ready to face the army that was steadily approaching. Jols placed bundles of arrows at their feet. He stood behind them, bow at the ready. Lancelot was trying to look anywhere but at Sera. It would make him too nervous, instead he fixed his gaze on Guinevere.

"You look frightened. There's a large number of lonely men out there." He said, half serious.

"Don't worry, I won't let them rape you." Said Guinevere, a hint of a smile on her face.

Rebekah grinned. Her friend was feeling better. She had her Sarmatian bow that she had begged off Jols in her hand. It would be fun to see how it performed during battle.

Tristan tested his bowstring, as the Saxons came into view. Rebekah saw their leader's beard, and stifled a laugh. It was a thin pathetic little braid. She indicated it to Sera, and said softly,

"Nice beard. It would make a nice war prize, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed it would. You can have it when I kill him." She assured her.

"Ah, you are a true friend, Sera."

"Just remember that next time I give you stitches."

"Oh, I will."

The Saxon leader signaled his archers. An archer shot an arrow, it barely made the half way point, skidding on the ice.

Arthur nearly smiled at this.

"Tristan, Bors. I think they're waiting for an invitation."

"They're far out of range!" exclaimed Guinevere, stating the obvious. Rebekah grinned. She hadn't yet told her why she wanted Tristan's bow so much.

Tristan and Bors notched at least a dozen arrows between them at let them loose, taking down a few Saxons. Guinevere's expression changed from one of confusion to respect. So _that_ was why Rebekah was over the moon about her new bow.

The Saxon leader, Cynric, looked stunned for a moment. Arthur urged his archers on.

"Make them cluster!" With any luck, they would weigh too much for the ice to hold. Meanwhile, Cynric was yelling at his men to hold their ranks, offering death threats. That was hardly the way to inspire people, in Rebekah's opinion.

They continued showering the Saxon's with arrows, but still, the ice held. Arthur knew what must be done.

"It's not going to break. Prepare for combat." He ordered. They would not survive this.

Dagonet stared at the opposing army. They would swat them like flies. They would get through them, to the wagons. To Fulcinia. He could not allow that. Coming to a decision, he set down his sword, and grabbed his ax. He charged at the oncoming army, screaming. He would break the ice.

Rebekah saw him go, and immediately knew what he was trying to do. She cursed herself for not thinking of it first. She grabbed her shield and ran after him. He would not last long with arrows in his chest. She ducked in front of him, shielding them both from the volley of arrows coming their way. Dagonet was pounding away at the ice, his expression set. Finally, there was a resounding crack, and the ice split. Their friends looked on in horror, as they went under.

Sera let out a scream, her eyes filled with fear. She, Bors, and Arthur sprinted across the ice, trying to reach them. Sera grabbed onto Rebekah, using all her strength to draw her from the water. Bors and Arthur did the same for Dagonet. They dragged the sputtering warriors back to the relative safety of the group.

During their absence, the others had redoubled their attack with arrows. It was hardly necessary, as most had fallen under the ice. Cynric couldn't believe what had just happened. His father wouldn't be very forgiving for this loss. Ten warriors, three of them wearing dresses, had defeated an army of two hundred. No, he would not be very understanding. He couldn't risk the rest of his men however. He looked across the lake, speculatively at his opposition. As if in challenge, the woman in the blue-green dress shot another arrow, killing yet another of his men. They had to get out of here. And they did.

Sera had taken charge of Dagonet and Rebekah. The wagons hadn't gone far, and they quickly reached them. She has them brought into the sick wagon, and stripped off their wet clothes. Fulcinia came quickly, her eyes shining with fear.

Rebekah was annoyed. She had hardly been under for long! She hadn't even been shot! Why were they all making such a fuss? She was wrapped in furs now, waiting for her dress to dry. Sera refused to leave her side. She was needed elsewhere. Lancelot would probably have had kittens by now. She tried to tell her this, but it was no use. She would stay.

"So, where's my prize?" asked Rebekah.

Sera had to think a moment. What was she talking about? Then she remembered, and her heart sank. She had promised Rebekah the Saxon leader's beard.

"I'm afraid our brave little Saxon got away, braid intact." She said full of regret.

"Well, you can't have everything. You can kill him some other time." Said Rebekah, in an offhanded manner.

"Right."

Rebekah refused to be cooped up any longer. She didn't even wait for her dress to dry; she just walked out in her furs. She got a few curious glances for that one. Sera sighed, and followed. You couldn't stop Rebekah when she was in a mood like this. Guinevere had been waiting outside the wagon, pacing. She didn't want to crowd the healers. She turned as Rebekah came out of the wagon.

She raised her brow. "Is that some sort of new fashion?" she asked, eyeing the furs wrapped around Rebekah.

"Yes, of course. I'm always fashionable."

"Like when you fell in the lake? That was stupid. I can't believe you would be that uncoordinated." She teased.

"Well, in my own defense, Dagonet went down first." Said Rebekah, stubbornly. There, that would settle the matter.

Tristan approached her, and nearly raised an eyebrow himself. She looked completely ridiculous. He went to his horse, and took out his spare outfit. It would look a little better, while she was waiting for her dress to dry.

"Here, try these. They don't fall down at inconvenient times." He said, eyeing the fur that had slipped off her shoulder.

Rebekah looked at him, questioningly, but accepted the garments, with a small smile.

"Thank you, Tristan. I had no idea you had objections to exposed skin." And with that, she turned and found an empty wagon to change in. She slipped into the trousers and tunic. She looked about quickly, making sure the coast was clear before she took a deep sniff at the tunic. Sure enough, it held the undeniably Tristan scent. She attempted to plait her wet hair, trying to get it all out of her face. One day, she would just shave it all off. It was far too much bother. Tristan walked past the wagon, and heard her struggle. Cautiously, he looked inside, only to see Rebekah, tugging at her hair. It was an odd sight, seeing someone else in his clothes. She didn't look too bad, actually. She stopped snarling at her hair when she felt his presence. What a scene for him to walk in on. Her life was now complete.

Tristan approached her, and motioned for her to turn around. She did, and he proceeded to braid her hair in strategic places, making sure her eyes could see everything. This pleased Rebekah greatly. Whenever she braided her hair, it always seemed to work its way out of the bindings, impeding her vision. These would stay nicely now. She turned back to Tristan, who was looking at her curiously.

"Why did they burn your cheek?" he asked, eyes locked on the area in question.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before remembering all he had done for her. Her face went blank, and she calmly responded, "The monk tried to burn off my tattoo. He was distracted by my foot to his...nether regions. So, he burned me in other places. I didn't really care all that much though. He didn't get my tattoo."

"Who gave it to you?"

"What?"

"Your tattoo." He said calmly.

"Oh, my father did. Just before... never mind. Let's just say, it means something to me." She would say no more on the subject. She had said far too much as it was.

She was about to leave the wagon, when she stopped. She turned around, strode right up to Tristan, and kissed him.

"Thanks for the braids." She said quietly. She left. What was with all of these impulses? Didn't she remember where the last one ended?

Tristan stood there for a long time, his brain not quite processing what had just happened. Just when he was making her uncomfortable with his questions, she kissed him. There was no predicting the woman!

Fulcinia tended to Dagonet. He would be all right, he told her. He was just cold. This, however, did nothing to sooth her fears. Alecto came by, as did Lucan. He was glad that Dagonet was all right. He wouldn't be alone in this world of women!

Dagonet sat up. His head hurt, but he didn't show it. There was no need to worry Fulcinia further. She had still not quite recovered from the shock of seeing Marius, dead, an arrow through his heart. How did she feel about that? Had she actually loved him?

Fulcinia watched his face. She couldn't read that face. It rarely displayed any emotion.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked. She really did want to know.

"Oh, nothing...it's just...well, your husband." He said, in his usual gruff voice. He hadn't really wanted to tell her that, but there was no use hiding her from the fact that he was dead. She would have to face it sometime.

"Oh...Well, he won't be hurting anyone now. He won't hurt you." She said, simply. She didn't love him, that much was plain. She was glad that Dagonet was still alive. She was surprised to find that she was glad that Marius was dead. Death was ugly. Death was cruel. It hadn't been so that morning. Marius' death had been a blessing, a gift from above. Fulcinia very nearly smiled at the thought.

Dagonet watched the corners of her mouth curl upward, briefly, before they resumed their usual vacant expression. She was glad. The guilt in his stomach released, and he nearly smiled too. There was no need for words. They could not possibly express what he was feeling now.


	13. Chapter 13:Mushy Romantic crap

**Okay. This chapter has a lot of kissing in it. I've warned you, so now you can't possibly complain about it. It's your own fault if you read past this point. I suck at this!**

**Nianko- Of course I am! I have no life! Thanks!**

**Camreyn- I recommend the hustle.**

**MonDieu666- I'm glad. I try to update everyday.**

**Elvenstar5- I love confetti!**

**ChildlikeEmpress- So do I! Alas, Tristan is a fictional character. Kudos for Rebekah indeed! Cynric's beard was highly disgusting. Did you notice that he and his father had different accents? Cedric's made me think of John Wayne.**

**Virtual chocolate for all of my loyal reviewers!**

Sera had looked all over the camp for Lancelot, but couldn't find him. Her brow creased. He hadn't wanted her to fight that day, but he understood. He couldn't possibly be angry, could he? She returned to the wagon and stopped. There he was. He had been looking for her. She smiled, and joined him. She slipped her arms around his waist.

"Well, I'm still in one piece. Not even a scratch."

He looked her over carefully, and found that she was right.

"When we get back to the wall, would you like to meet my family?" she asked "Galahad and Gawain are coming for sure. Rebekah promised to fix them up with some of mine and Guinevere's cousins."

That would be quite a sight, in itself. Galahad, with a group of women surrounding him. Hmmm...It might be worth going just for that. But Sera wanted him to meet her family. That might be kind of awkward. He had killed for Rome. He had killed their people. Some things were not easily forgiven. But he would be free when he got to the wall. He wouldn't have to do that anymore. He could be proud of who he was then. Besides, he had never seen an inhabited Woad settlement. It would further his mind. He was trying to talk himself around. All he wanted to do was be around Sera as much as possible. He would go.

"Well, if you were _really_ nice to me and fluttered your lashes at me a bit, I might consider it." Said Lancelot.

"We'll see about that. My lashes don't flutter well. It's a real problem."

They both sighed and nodded solemnly at this, before breaking out in laughter.

"It'll be really fun, though...I think Rebekah will be able to drag Tristan along, Bors can bring Vanora and all the little bastards, maybe we can even get Arthur to come."

"I doubt Arthur will. He hates the Woads, no offense." He said quickly. He had already offended her once that day, and her plans for Marius were still fresh in his mind. He wanted to have children some day. Very possibly with the woman in front of him.

"You thought I hadn't noticed that? Well what about Guinevere, does he hate her?"

"Well, I suppose he doesn't mind her too much, he wasn't to friendly with her this morning, though."

"He'll get over it. They always do."

"Really? Always?" he asked, grin in place.

"Yes. Always. Everyone loves Guinevere. You can't help it. It's just one of those things that you can always count on."

"I'm sure she's a lovely person, but she doesn't seem very friendly."

"Oh, don't worry. She'll warm up to you eventually. She is just a bit wary of your type."

"My type?" he asked, curiously. He had a type?

"Yes. Handsome, devilishly charming, and fully aware of it yourself."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm conceited?"

"No. It's my way of telling you that you are who you are." She said smiling, lightly kissing him on the tip of his nose. The expression on his face was priceless. She laughed. She released him, and turned to go check on Dagonet. She didn't make much noise, and when she looked in, she stopped. This was not a scene to walk in on. She backed away, and found Lancelot again.

"How's Dagonet?" asked Lancelot.

"He's probably feeling better than he has in a long time." She said, smiling. She wouldn't tell him. They deserved their privacy.

"Oh, good. Can I go see him?"

Sera's eyes opened wide in panic. He couldn't go in there NOW!

"Uh...Actually, no...You don't want to crowd him, now do you?"

He looked at her incredulously. "It's hardly a small wagon, if it's just him and Fulcinia, what's the harm?"

She had to stop him. She wouldn't ruin the moment for either of them. They hadn't had much love in their lives, and they deserved it. So did she. She grabbed Lancelot roughly, and pulled him into a kiss. That would keep him busy for a while. She might as well enjoy herself in the meantime.

Lancelot was a bit shocked at first, but quickly accustomed himself to the situation. She had said Dagonet was fine; he could wait a bit longer for a visit.

In the wagon, something very unusual was occurring. Dagonet was not generally a forward man, but somehow he had managed to get Fulcinia in his lap. He kissed her gently. She would not have seen kisses as tender in her marriage to Marius, and he wanted to show her the softer side of affection.

Fulcinia hadn't really realized what was happening at first, but quickly began to enjoy herself. It was nice really. She had never felt that before. Before, being in a man's arms had terrified her, but now, it was rather comforting. Someone loved her. No one ever had.

His big hands were gentle as he caressed her hair. Lightly, hesitantly, she traced the scars that slashed over his face. He was handsome, in a way. Most people didn't see it. The scars covered it well. Fulcinia smiled. She was in love with the most gentle man she had ever met. She had dreams of them, raising Alecto and Lucan, it would be everything, it would be all that they needed.

Dagonet stopped kissing her, and studied her closely. "Will you marry me?" he asked. He hadn't planned to, it seemed too soon after her husband's death.

She smiled wider, a tear escaping. She nodded, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He had never been so happy in his entire life.

Rebekah looked around for someone to talk to, but no one was there. She hadn't used to be so dependent on others. When they had lived apart from the tribe, she rarely spoke at all. Now, she was lonely. She saw Galahad and Gawain across the fire and grinned. If she was to play matchmaker, she had a few questions for them. She sat down in between the two.

"So, Galahad, do you like forward women?" she asked.

"I suppose..." he said, clearly nervous that he hadn't answered correctly.

"Good. We have lots of those. How about you, Gawain?"

"Well," he said, pulling her into his lap "I simply love forward women. They don't blush, and pretend to be flustered when you talk to them."

Rebekah laughed. She loved being around people. They said the most peculiar things, sometimes. "Oh, just wait until you meet my father!"

Gawain and Galahad visibly paled. Gawain pushed Rebekah off his lap, and glanced around, clearly worried that the spirit of Rebekah's father had noticed. She laughed again.

"Don't worry, he hardly ever kills people who touch me anymore." She said, reassuringly.

"Oh, well. I feel so much better now." Gawain said, some of his color returning.

"Good. Where's Tristan?" she asked.

Gawain raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? Are you finally willing to admit that I am right? Nice trousers, by the way."

"Absolutely not! I simply wanted to know how long it will take us to get back. I haven't seen my father for quite some time." She didn't want to talk about the trousers. They made her think about the braids. And what had transpired _after_ the braids. It was too confusing for now.

It was true. She did want to know. But she wanted to know something else as well. Was he upset that she had kissed him? Disgusted? She felt the air shift behind her and looked up, into the face of Tristan. It was a bit intimidating. To even their ground, she stood.

"When will we get back?" She asked.

Tristan looked at her. It was as if she had never kissed him. She was speaking to him as she did everyone else. "Three days. It was quicker before, but now we have the wagons."

She nodded.

Just as he was turning to leave, she stopped him.

"Oh, we were wondering if you wanted to come meet everyone when we get back to the wall. You'll be free then, so it should be fine."

He turned back to her, and frowned.

"Who's everyone?"

"Her overly protective father for one!" said Galahad. Rebekah shot him a glare, and he looked away.

"My father is not overly protective. If he was, I wouldn't be able to beat your skinny ass in sparring."

"But we've never sparred before, how would you know?"

"Because, Galahad dear, I'm good. I'm beginning to doubt that you could handle a Woad woman. We're very demanding."

He looked a bit confused at this, but quickly got her meaning.

"Of course I could! I have legendary skills in bed!" he protested.

Rebekah grinned, and bent over to pat his cheek. "You are legendary. Just not in the right way. It's all right, I'm sure I can find somebody for you. I'm very good at that."

"What a coincidence, so am I. You're perfect for Tristan. Go ahead, Tristan, she's all yours." Said Gawain, coming in, in defense of his friend.

Tristan glared darkly at Gawain, and grabbed Rebekah's hand. She protested as he led her away from the fire, into the shadows. He whirled her around, and kissed her hard.

He wanted to know what she was thinking. Would she like this? She had kissed him earlier, but had she meant it? He had.

Rebekah was caught off guard. People didn't just walk up to her and kiss her. She was usually the one to do the walking. Well, all things change. She liked this particular change. She pulled him closer, and nearly moaned. He kissed a _lot_ better than any of the men she had ever bedded. It would be interesting to see what her father thought of this man.


	14. Chapter 14:Author Intervention and Laim

I got sooooo many reviews! I love you people! This one isn't so heavy on the Mushy Romantic Crap but its still there. I couldn't stop myself from adding a note here in there (Thanks for the inspiration TalkIsCheap! Your story rocks my socks!)

**Senor Mordecai-Marching Band indeed!**

**Kate- I couldn't help myself. The cooties were too good to pass up.**

**Nianko- I'm so glad I have a membership!**

**Luna Hime- Thank you so much! That's so sweet!**

**TalkIsCheap- I'm always scared when you make a threat! (JK)**

**Elvishprincess130990- I think I understood about half of that. My e-speak isn't up to scratch I'm afraid...Thanks for reviewing!**

**SunsetSparrow- You're welcome. **

**Shallindra- We'll have more Mushy Romantic Crap throughout the story, never fear!**

**TJ- I'm glad you like it! You're right, most people don't think about a Dagonet/Fulcinia romance. I've always been interested in the psychology of abused women, and Dagonet seemed so perfect, being so gentle and all.**

**Elvenstar5- I liked the chapter title as well. The proposal was a bit odd, but I like it anyway.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- Is that a good "wow.." or a bad "wow..." ?????**

**Camreyn- So do I! A triple or quadruple wedding would kind of weird me out. When I used to play Barbie's with my sisters, that used to happen all the time. Kind of killed my taste for such events.**

**Note- I have decided that Mushy Romantic Crap must be capitalized. It just looks so much better that way.**

Guinevere sat at the fire. So many people surrounded her, but she had never felt more alone. Arthur hadn't spoken to her since last night in the forest. Rebekah and Sera were..._busy_...with other activities that Guinevere honestly didn't want to think about. It was far too depressing. Arthur was standing by himself, with his usual pensive expression firmly in place. He wouldn't enjoy the interruption, but she had to talk to someone. She wanted to know what he would do when they returned to the wall. Sera and Rebekah had been talking about taking the knights to see their families. Would he come too? There, he would see that the Woads were not the monsters that he thought them to be. All they wanted was their freedom. They wanted their land back. Didn't he understand that?

Guinevere approached, and his shoulders stiffened. It was the only acknowledgement he made of her presence. She was not welcome company. And yet, she was. He did not send her away. He didn't know why, exactly. She was the one who betrayed him. 'Or did she?' asked the nagging voice in his head. It was true; Merlin did not wish him dead. Merlin wanted him to commit suicide. Well, it was as good as suicide, staying here to fight the Saxons. Why would he even consider such a request? But he was. He was thinking about it far too much for his own comfort. His mother kept surfacing in his memory. She had told him stories of her people; they were still fresh in his mind. Yet, they had killed her. The Woads had killed his mother. Yet, Merlin had not wished her dead. She was of their blood, he had said. As was he. He had tried to hide from that fact since the day she had died. It returned now. He was not the full Roman that he wished he were. For better, or for worse, he was a Briton, just as much as he was Roman. He was resigned to it now. There was nothing he could do about it, and he was surprised to find that he didn't mind it. He was proud of his mother.

"Has it always been like this?" he asked her, suddenly.

"Like what?" she asked, confused.

"Do you always lead a man on for your cause?"

Guinevere was a bit stunned by his question. She was shocked with herself, when she realized that she hadn't been leading him on at all. Well, perhaps she had, in the beginning. She hadn't been pretending for long.

"No. I wasn't leading you." She said simply.

Arthur's brow furrowed at this. He was used to people lying to him. It came with the politics of being a commander. He didn't see a lie in her eyes now. 'And that,' he thought 'was thoroughly disconcerting and uplifting at the same time.' Disconcerting, as he knew himself to be in love with a Woad, and uplifted because she loved him back. He couldn't quite decide which feeling was stronger.

Guinevere was apprehensive. She couldn't tell what the man was thinking; his expression was as blank as stone. Not only was he essential to their cause, she found that he was essential to her.

"Well...that changes things then, doesn't it?" he said seriously, and kissed her. (Author's note-Sorry, it was just a little residual Mushy Romantic Crap that carried over from the last chapter.) Everything was right again. Guinevere didn't know whether he would stay with her, or leave for Rome, but at the moment, she didn't really care.

Gawain, Galahad, and Bors were the only knights around the fire. They all looked at each other, disappointment etched in their features. They didn't know where their fellow knights were, exactly, but they couldn't help but wish they each had a wench in their lap. (Bors, of course wishing for Vanora, if she asks!)

"I wish we'd hurry up and get to the wall. I've had enough of all this Mushy Romantic Crap." Said Gawain (Author-Yeah for Gawain! Rock on!)

"Well said. I didn't know Tristan, Dagonet, or Arthur had a romantic bone in their bodies. Well, we knew Lancelot was a hopeless slut, but that hardly explains the rest of them." Said Bors. He really was confused. He had rode with these men for fifteen years, and never had they fallen so head over heals for any wench, no matter how beautiful. Even Lancelot was breaking from tradition. Usually, he went for Buxom Beauties, yet he was currently starry eyed over a rather plain, small-breasted Woad. Life simply wasn't making sense. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about Lancelot keeping his hands off Vanora. Sera knew how to keep a man in line.

Galahad couldn't wait to meet the cousins. Women didn't exactly flock to him. These women didn't know him, so he could make a fresh start. Rebekah was gorgeous, even with the scarring on her body, and if she was any indication, there would be other beauties as well.

The days went by, and everyone settled into a routine. Arthur would send Tristan out to scout, Rebekah usually accompanying him. Dagonet had developed a strange attachment to riding in the wagon, so he let Rebekah ride his horse. Rebekah hadn't given Tristan his garments back, and he hadn't asked so she rode astride, unlike any woman Tristan had ever met. It was unusual for a Woad to ride as well as she did, but Tristan said nothing on the subject. They didn't say much of anything, actually, as they were scouting. They took their job very seriously. When they rejoined the caravan at night, they were able to talk of many things, surprising everyone who knew Tristan. Usually, the fewer syllables, the better had been Tristan's motto, but not now. While he still kept his words clipped and emotionless, he spoke at length to Rebekah. And she spoke at length to him. Tristan did insist on breaking up the exchange of words, with virtual silence (with the exception of a throaty moan here and there) too many words could ruin a relationship.

Lancelot and Sera shared a saddle, laughing and arguing over various subjects. Lancelot was terrified of meeting Sera's family, though he tried not to show it. What if they didn't like him? What if her mother was immune to his charm as Sera was? Sera, he could win over with kissing, but he didn't feel that this was a prudent way to win over a potential mother-in-law. He didn't know about all these family relations departments. What about his own family? He hadn't seen them in fifteen years; he had no idea how he would behave around them, now. Perhaps Sera would come with him to Sarmatia...but, no. He knew, without a doubt that Sera would never leave this land behind. She might go for a visit, but she would never leave this island for good. Lancelot didn't know if he wanted to leave it either. It had been home to him for fifteen years, Sarmatia was no more than a distant memory.

Dagonet and Fulcinia spent their days in the wagon with Alecto and Lucan. Lucan looked up to Alecto as a sort of demigod. He seemed to know everything, and never seemed to tire of answering questions. Fulcinia looked on this exchange with a smile on her face. They were behaving like siblings, just as she had pictured it in her dreams. Dagonet took her hand, and she raised her gaze to his. It was good to see her smile, and he joined her. Alecto had looked upon him with suspicion at first, but quickly grew used to the gentle giant's presence. He made his mother happy. She deserved some happiness in life. Lucan's arm was healing well, and in a few weeks would be back to normal.

Arthur and Guinevere spent their days in virtual silence. Words were not needed. She was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life, and enjoyed the feeling. Arthur felt like himself for the first time in a long while. He supposed the last time he had had a real sense of self was before the flames had taken his mother. They were discreet, not wanting to bother anyone.

Bors, Gawain, and Galahad sat glumly by the fire each night, Rebekah occasionally popping in, trying to lift their spirits. Gawain pulled her into his lap every change he got, if only to see Tristan scowl as he did. Rebekah didn't mind, as it usually involved Tristan kissing her with great force, just to show up Gawain. She _really_ didn't mind. Bors and Galahad would laugh at that, and daydream about the women waiting for them. Bors actually had a face on his lady fair, though Galahad had to be a bit more creative.

At night, the Woads shared a wagon with Fulcinia. (Just for the people with their minds in the gutter-yes, I mean you!) They spoke as they usually did about what had transpired during the day, and what it would mean in future. The Saxons were discussed often; they had not forgotten the threat that was nearly at their doorstep.

On the last day of their journey, Tristan and Rebekah went out scouting as usual. All was going well, until she froze. Someone was there. Actually there were many 'someones."

Laim watched from above. Who dared enter these woods? Then he recognized the woman, and his heart nearly stopped in shock. They had thought her dead, and he had wept. Yet, here she was, alive, alert, and suspicious. Gods, he loved this woman. He was in charge of the Woads on watch duty, and he signaled to them to be careful. He did not know the man that she rode with. He jumped out of his tree, and Rebekah nearly shot him, before she recognized him. She dismounted, preparing to greet him. Instead, he ran at her, pulled her into a fierce hug, and kissed her.

For a moment, Rebekah was completely shocked, and then instinct kicked in. He was on his back in an instant, looking up into that beautiful face.

"What was that for Laim?" she asked.

"You're alive!" he said, getting up "Who's this?" he asked, looking suspiciously at Tristan.

Tristan didn't answer. He was studying this Woad, who had such strong passion for his woman. That could not continue.

"This is Tristan, I don't have time to explain anything now, we're going to the wall."

At that moment, Laim noticed the burn marks under her tattoo. His eyes narrowed, and he glared at Tristan. "What has he done to you?" he asked

Rebekah looked confused for a second, and then realized what he meant. "Tristan didn't do this. I spent four months being tortured, he saved me, and I don't have time for this right now. The Saxons are coming, and we have to get back to the wall. You should come with us. We'll need every fighter we can get."

Laim felt sick at her mention of torture. The woman he loved had been tortured? By whom? Why? So, it was true, the Saxons were coming. He would go with them. He would follow Rebekah into battle.

"I would be honored to be among your troops, lady Rebekah..." And realized that he had said too much. Rebekah was glaring at him. Obviously she hadn't told her precious Tristan about her authority among the Woads.

"That's enough, Laim. Come with us, we're going back to the caravan."

"There's more of you?" he asked

"Yes, Guinevere and Sera, to name a few."

They were saved. Their ladies of war had been returned to them at just the right time. Laim let out a sigh of relief. Everyone had thought them dead. The morale had gotten quite a blow with that thought.

"We will come with you." He said, and the rest of the watch duty came out of the trees.

"Good. I'll ride with Tristan. You can use my horse." She said shortly, and away they went.


	15. Chapter 15:Germanus' Weakness

Well, I didn't get as many reviews as last time. (Insert dejected sighs here) Oh, well. Thank you to my loyal reviewers! You people are awesome!

**Senior Mordecai- I'm glad! Oh, stop-you're making me blush! Ooooo...Threats now-I'm terrified!**

**Camreyn- That was such a nice long review! You'll just have to wait and see.**

**TalkIsCheap- I'll see what I can do about the Bitch slapping. I pronounce Laim as Lame. But that's just me. You can pronounce it however you want. Whatever floats your boat.**

**SunsetSparrow-Thanks!**

**Elvish-princess130990- Thanks! I like them too.**

**LittleWolf4- Thanks- Here's the update. Would you like to know how I would vote? Well, here it is. Tristan is a HOTTIE EXTRORDINAIRE! **

**ChildlikeEmpress- Thanks. I enjoyed your humorous Bitch fight between Tristan and Laim. Question- Was the "Thwack" Tristan getting hit with his own bow?**

**Luana Hime- Te He He! I think Galahad's kind of cute too!**

They rode in silence. The air was thick with tension, and no one wanted to be physically maimed. Tristan had a possessive and territorial arm around Rebekah's waist, and Laim glared at it furiously. Rebekah belonged with their own kind, not with some bloody Sarmatian! Besides, he wasn't even handsome! Now, Laim, in his opinion was quite the fellow. He was a fierce warrior, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He commanded a fierce band of warriors that would make any commander proud. So why wasn't she on his horse?

Sera and Lancelot were debating the advantages of the single or twin swords when Tristan, Rebekah, Laim, and his band rode up. Lancelot tightened his grip on Sera when he noticed Laim staring at her. Laim was so happy to see Sera. He had thought her dead, and now that he knew these thoughts to be false, he rejoiced. Sera had saved his father at one point, and they would have need of her healing skills again. Guinevere came out of the wagon to see what all the fuss was about, and stopped. Then she smiled at the fierce looking band of Woads. Rebekah and Sera both dismounted, much to the displeasure of their saddle-mates.

Guinevere, Rebekah, and Sera stood next to each other, inspecting the band.

"We came across them scouting. They have agreed to come with us." Said Rebekah.

They were an awesome sight, thought Laim. These were their ladies of battle. Sera, the healer, Guinevere, the lady, and Rebekah, the warrior. They were a crucial part of every battle, and their cause had suffered without them. Merlin should never have assigned them to the same location. Yet, here they stood. Guinevere and Sera in Roman dresses, and Rebekah in a foreigner's trousers. They were breathtaking all the same. On the battlefield, they were a cold fury, wrapped in calm. It was eerie, and unsettling, rather intimidating for the opponent. Now, all three pairs of those eyes were completely focused on him. It was hard to look Merlin in the eye, and these three were giving him a run for his money. Laim took a step back without realizing it.

The caravan had come to a halt, and all the knights dismounted, studying the new arrivals. Arthur stepped forward. Guinevere indicated Laim.

"This is Laim, he will be traveling with us till we get to the wall. He and his band will help look after our safety." She explained.

Tristan was suspicious. Yes, they were for protection, but not for theirs. The possessive stares at the ladies had his mind whirling. They were important leaders of their tribe, and Tristan had no doubt that any of these warriors would lay down their lives in protection of them. He would tell no one else. They did not need to know, and Rebekah obviously didn't feel like sharing. He could, however, care about the lusty stares that Laim was sending Rebekah. What was going on there? Was Rebekah betrothed? It would make sense. She was an important leader; she could possibly need to make an allegiance for the good of her tribe. He would not be able to offer her allegiance with his tribe. It would hardly matter. They were back in Sarmatia. He couldn't offer her anything. Tristan was not one to give up without a fight, however. He would worry about this later.

Laim studied the knight that currently had his arms around Sera. Was this yet _another_ Sarmatian? What was wrong with them? Didn't they remember what they had done? Then, he caught a glance between Arthur and Guinevere, and started. The Lady of the Woads was in love with a Roman? Oh, the Gods were cruel! Not only was Rebekah infatuated with a scruffy Sarmatian, but Guinevere, who knew better, was infatuated with a Roman. He supposed he could forgive Sera. She had always been an empty headed girl. She rarely spoke, as she had nothing important to say.

The Woad women got their "guests" settled in for the ride, and the caravan continued on. They would not have to worry about being attacked by Woads, not with so many of their own present. Tristan and Rebekah rode slightly apart from the others. They spoke in whispers; their words did not need volume.

"What is Laim to you?" he asked her.

"A talented warrior." She responded, simply.

"He certainly doesn't see you in that straightforward manner."

Rebekah shook her head slowly. "No, he doesn't. He has been infatuated with me for some time, for some reason, he believes we are fated to be together, what with...family connections...but I can't risk alienating him. He commands some of our fiercest warriors, and we need them."

"Family connections?"

"...oh, I suppose you'll have figured out by now that Guinevere, Sera, and I have special positions in our tribe...I am one of the two leaders of our troops. Guinevere is the other. One of noble blood, Guinevere being Merlin's daughter, and I, the Warrior, being daughter of my mother. She was the Warrior before me, and Liam...well; his grandfather was our leader before Merlin. He has some power and influence among the tribe still, so I always have to think of that. We must be unified, or we will fall. Since both Laim and I are of such...high...birth, many assume we will marry. I do not correct them often. It's easier not to."

Tristan was silent for a moment.

"So, who are you marrying?"

"No one at the moment. How about you?"

"I do not recall an engagement."

"Good. When we get back to the wall, will you come with us to see the Woads?" she really wanted him to come. More than she had wanted his bow.

"Well, I have nothing better to do."

'Ah, yes. Tristan, the hopeless romantic.' Rebekah thought, with a smile.

The wall came into view, and Rebekah could feel the excitement of the knights. Tristan's arms tightened a bit, and Rebekah smile. He was nervous. His face, of course, didn't show this. He looked as calm and composed as usual.

Arthur's expression never changed. Inside, he was furious. He had had a nice, long talk with Alecto about Bishop Germanus. Arthur had admired the teacher Pelagius, and had even modeled his round table after his teachings of freedom and equality. Germanus had had him killed for it. Germanus had kept in touch with Marius over the years. They had shared their disappointments of the pagans not wishing to convert. So, Germanus had given Marius a helpful hint. People are easier to control when they are afraid. Give them something to fear. Marius had converted the family chapel the next day. It appeared that Arthur had quite a score to settle with his father's friend.

The party stopped before the gates, and the three Woad women dismounted. They spoke to the entire caravan, and asked that they not share their status with any Roman. Everyone agreed, and they continued on, through the gates.

Bishop Germanus was in the courtyard, sycophantic smile firmly in place. They had brought Alecto back with them. Alecto, he could mold until he was no more than a puppet. Germanus may never become pope himself, but he would see to it that Alecto did. He would be in control then.

He signaled for the box with their discharge papers.

"Alecto! Against all the odds Satan could muster...let me see you!" he said, smile still intact.

Alecto backed away from him, Fulcinia and Dagonet coming to his aid. Germanus laughed, and no one joined him.

"Well, you are free now." He said, gesturing at the box. They all stared at it. One by one, they each took their scroll, wondering at the simplicity of something that had been so elusive for fifteen years. Germanus tried to speak to Arthur, but he was never given the opportunity.

"Bishop Germanus, friend of my father." He said, dislike and disgust laced in his tone.

Germanus was confused, and looked for the first time at the rest of their party. By this time, Laim and his band had left for the forest, and Guinevere, Rebekah and Sera stood together, not even trying to mask their loathing. Germanus noted Rebekah's attire and tattoos. Unnatural devil woman, he was sure of it. She had slipped an arm around the man with the wild hair and tattoos. She had probably seduced him with sins of the flesh. She could do the same for him, if she wished to live. He would think more about that later.

The knights went back to their rooms, Tristan relieving the Roman soldier of the box that had held their papers. It was a nice box, and would go nicely with the goblet that he had taken earlier. The women were sharing a room, but quickly left it, in search of the knights. They found them in the courtyard, all sitting at a table. Bors was nowhere to be seen, though they all assumed that he was with Vanora, and his little bastards. Lancelot pulled Sera into his lap, assuring her that it was only polite to conserve space. She could only agree.

"So, is everyone coming tonight?" asked Rebekah.

Galahad assured her that he could fit it into his schedule, and she smiled. Of course he could. The other knights nodded their assent, and everyone looked to Arthur, wondering if he would join them. He had thought long and hard about this. He wanted to distance himself from Rome, and how better to do it than attend a Woad celebration?

"I will go with you." He said.

Lancelot looked a bit stunned, and Sera gave him a self-satisfied smile. It clearly said 'see, it always works this way.'

"Pay up!" she said, grinning.

It wasn't much of a sacrifice, he thought as he kissed her. The others turned away, busying themselves, trying to pretend that talk of a drought in some foreign land that they knew nothing about was more interesting than the rather impressive lip lock taking place in their midst. Finally, they decided that they had to distance themselves, and went to their respective rooms to change, leaving Sera and Lancelot entwined and behind.

Rebekah walked Tristan back to his room and was about to return to hers, when she turned a corner and rammed right into Bishop Germanus. He smiled, and looked her up and down slowly. Rebekah's body shivered in revulsion. She knew what thoughts were going through his head right now, and it sickened her. The man was older than her father!

She showed no fear, and raised an eyebrow, "Can I help you." She asked calmly.

"I believe you can. I'm simply exhausted, and could use a bath. I'm sure you could assist me."

"Actually, I couldn't. I have an engagement shortly."

"Well, I'm sure I could match his price..." he said, but before he could finish his sentence, she sent him sprawling. He tried to recover, but she put a dainty slipper-shod foot to his throat, crushing into his windpipe dangerously.

"I am no whore. You are no man of God. Are we clear on that?" she hissed, voice low.

"God will punish you for your actions, pagan..." he managed to choke out.

Rebekah kicked him, and sent him flying into the stone wall behind him. He was knocked unconscious. Rebekah gave a malicious laugh, staring down at the fool who had dared call her a whore. No one had made that mistake in a long while, and she had missed having such an excuse to beat up the worms of the world.

She turned on her heel, and went to find her room. She had just gotten to beat the hell out of a complete bastard, and she was going to see her father. Rebekah could hardly contain her excitement.

And now, you know what you're going to do, right? That's right, you're going to REVIEW! Keep me happy and fulfilled!


	16. Chapter 16:A Gathering of the Woads

Hola! Many of you were curious about Rebekah's malicious laugh. I felt that while we had seen the flirtatious and gentle side of the Woads, we had never really seen their cold fury, and wished to illustrate this. That and Germanus really bugs me. Hope that explains it!

**LittleWolf4- not now, but I'll think about it for the future. That same mysterious scout often distracts me. I can hardly blame you.**

**Camreyn- I enjoy your ramblings as usual! Yes, we really get the feeling of an old western, don't we. Germanus always bothered me, so really wanted someone to beat the shit out of him, so why not have the Title character do the honors? Thank you for helping me on my way to fulfillment. Please continue reviewing!**

**TalkIsCheap- See Malicious Laugh note above. I liked it too!**

**Luana Hime- Thank you so much! I kind of like MRC too.**

**Caroline- Thanks, you get your wish!**

**Elvish-princess130990- Indeed! Do you really think I would be that cruel?**

**Senor Mordecai- It's okay I haven't quite mastered the art of typing either. I doubt Mordecai will be too hard on you.**

**I LOVE IT LIKE CHEESE- nice name! See malicious laugh note above. I try to update everyday.**

**Kate- It's alright! We all have days like that. I suppose in the tradition of girl talk, I'm supposed to say that he's an ass, but I don't know him, so I won't say that. Thanks for the review!**

**Elvenstar5- Indeed! Here it is!**

When Rebekah finally made it back to the women's quarters, Guinevere was ready to go. She hurriedly changed into her dress, and they went to go find Sera. She was exactly where they had left her. Guinevere and Rebekah turned to each other with raised eyebrows. It took quite a bit of stamina to go on for this long. Sera would be ready for battle.

"Um...Lancelot, could we borrow Sera for a bit?" asked Guinevere, trying not to laugh.

Lancelot's head jerked back in surprise. He quickly recovered, his trademark smile in place.

"Well, I suppose I could part with her for a bit. I'll meet you by the gates." He said, letting Sera off his lap with some reluctance.

"I'm impressed." Said Rebekah.

"So am I!" said Sera, and the three of them smiled.

They went back to their room to get Fulcinia, and went to meet the knights at the gates. They walked, instead of taking the time to saddle their horses. The horses deserved a night off as well.

"Laim will already have told them of our arrival, so we probably won't be shot." Said Rebekah, reassuringly.

"Probably?" asked Lancelot.

"Well, if you want complete certainly, my brave knight, stay home!" said Sera, teasingly.

Lancelot shut up after that. Tristan, ever the scout was looking about warily.

"They're everywhere." He whispered to Rebekah.

"I know." She said simply, a happy look upon her face. "They won't hurt us."

"If you say so..."

"It's alright. You can come out." She called to them.

For a moment, even the wind went still. Slowly, blue painted bodies emerged from the trees, exited to see their ladies, but wary of the strangers they brought. Rebekah looked about and grinned when she saw her father. She ran to him, and he picked her up in a long hug. Daithi had not seen his daughter in quite some time, though on his return Merlin had assured him that she was alive. He had never been so glad to see her. When he finally set her down again, he studied her. She had a burn on her cheek; just under the tattoo he had given her. Her fingers were a bit swollen; Merlin had told him that they had been dislocated. She looked so happy, though. She began introducing the knights, and when she got to Tristan, she paused.

"Father, this is Tristan." She said.

Daithi studied him closely. Here was one who didn't let much go. He was obviously Sarmatian.

"Welcome, Tristan. I have admired your skill in battle from afar for quite some time." He said.

Tristan inclined his head, but said nothing.

Guinevere cleared her throat. "Merlin will be waiting for us." She said, trying to move them along. They made their way deeper into the forest, and came to what was clearly the center of the Woad settlement. She nearly ran to her father, before she remembered her dignity. Instead, she slowly approached him, and they embraced. He let her go and they stepped away from one another. Woads were coming out of dwellings rapidly, anxious to see their ladies and these strange knights. Merlin held up his hands for silence, and everyone stopped talking abruptly.

"The Gods have returned our Ladies to us in our hour of need. Our Ladies have brought with them those who helped them, for this we will honor them. No one is to harm them." Said Merlin.

Rebekah dragged Galahad off, in search of a Woad who would have him. She saw a group of women and smiled. They would start here. She introduced him to Maebh, Iona, Mona, and Muirgheal. They all smiled at Galahad in a calculated manner that had him shying away slightly. 'That would not do.' Thought Rebekah. She noticed Deirdre out of the corner of her eye. She was related to Deirdre in a very distant way, something like a fifth cousin, she couldn't remember. They had the same build, but Deirdre had lighter hair and blue eyes. She had a way of relaxing people, while still getting what she wanted. She would be _perfect _for Galahad. She would help build his confidence.

She smiled at Deirdre and motioned her over. They shared a quick hug, and their attention reverted back to Galahad who only looked slightly less wary. Deirdre smiled as she studied him. He was about her age, and seemed rather sweet, in a way. She liked that.

"Galahad, this is my cousin Deirdre, Deirdre, Galahad." Said Rebekah, introducing them.

Galahad couldn't believe his good fortune. A simply stunning woman was smiling at him.

Rebekah left them, trusting that they would get along, and looked around for Tristan. She found him sitting by the other knights. What made her eyes narrow was the girl that was presently in the process of sitting down in Tristan's lap. Etain had followed her around before she had been imprisoned, learning all her tricks. Etain was an ambitious girl, always with an eye on what was someone else's. This would not continue. She took her time walking over to her and gave her an icy smile.

"Thank you for keeping my seat warm for me." She said coldly.

Etain's head snapped back in shock and tried to smile. "I heard that you had returned, though I didn't know you brought a pet back with you." She said pleasantly.

"I didn't. Your mother might have been one of my finest fighters, but you are not. You only have the position you do now because it was your mother's dying wish. Don't make me reconsider. Go find Laim. I'm sure he could do with some entertainment." Rebekah said, in dismissal.

Etain had never been more humiliated in all her life. She couldn't reject an order from such a high placed warrior. She left, her head held high. The knights watched her go in amazement. That had been some pretty impressive work on Rebekah's part. She sat down next to Tristan, not wanting to sit on his lap at the moment. He had let Etain sit on it, and as far as Rebekah was concerned, it was tainted.

"Do they teach all of you how to do that?" asked Tristan.

"Do what?" asked Rebekah, her tone still a bit chilly.

"She moved just like you, she even tried to speak in your same tone. And when she sat on my lap, every muscle moved like yours."

"She's been following me around, imitating me. She wants my position." She raised an eyebrow at Tristan "I still have plenty of tricks she hasn't seen yet." She said, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Such as?" he asked.

Rebekah leaned closer, and whispered very inventive suggestions in his ear. Tristan, whose face rarely showed emotion, was showing it now. His mouth was slightly open, and he stared at her in amazement.

"I didn't know that was possible." He said, trying to make his face revert to it's usual calm.

"It is, trust me. Perhaps someday, you'll see for yourself." She said, smiling.

Gawain looked on. He was jealous. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Galahad, talking to a beautiful Woad that reminded him of Rebekah a bit. Then, a woman walked by that made Gawain's jaw drop. She had dark brown hair and light green eyes. She turned her gaze on him and smiled. He stood, and approached her.

"I'm Gawain, and you are?"

"Radha. I'm Sera's cousin."

"Would you like to join us?" he asked.

Radha studied him carefully. If he tried anything, she calculated that she would be able to take him down. Besides, Sera was there. She hadn't spoke to her in a while.

"Certainly." She replied, and they rejoined the group.

Arthur was surprised to find that he did not feel awkward in these surroundings. These people welcomed him, they bore no ill will. He hadn't expected that. Guinevere smiled at him, as if to say, 'See, they're not so bad as you think.' And she was right.

Alecto and Merlin stared at each other for a long time before speaking. Neither truly trusted the other, but when they actually spoke, they enjoyed the opportunity to compare their religions. They were not so different, really. They even shared some holy days.

Fulcinia watched her son with pride. He didn't condemn Merlin, and Merlin didn't condemn Alecto. They were speaking rationally, in the hopes of bettering both of their respective people. He would do well in Rome.

Sera had dragged Lancelot over to her parents, and he stood before him. Never had he been so nervous in all of his life. Sera's father Ardan studied him critically. Lancelot would do well by his daughter. He was obviously a warrior. He would be able to look after her. Sera's mother scooped him up in a hug, surprising him. She was a good woman. She would welcome this stranger for the sake of her daughter. He wasn't too bad looking! After they had spoken for a time, Sera excused them, and Lancelot let out a sigh of relief. Sera laughed at him, the brave knight, frightened of her mother!

"They aren't _that_ bad!" said Sera.

"You owe me. I know the perfect way to pay me back."

"How?"

"You get to go with me and meet _my_ parents."

Sera looked dumbstruck. "_Your_ parents. As in _your_ parents that live in _Sarmatia_?"

"They're the only one's I have." He said, finally regaining his color and chuckling.

"You've got to be joking."

"It wouldn't be for long! I just want to see them again." He said, in his most persuasive tone.

"But, what are you going to do? Will you live in Sarmatia?" she asked. She desperately wanted him to stay here, with her.

"I don't think I'll want to stay in Sarmatia. I know you wouldn't."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "I'll come with you. But we're definitely coming back. We'd miss the fog."

"True. The weather is so lovely here, I don't think I could stand being away from it for long." He said, and kissed her long and hard. This trip would be interesting.

Suddenly, one of the watchmen ran up to Merlin.

"They are here!" he said frantically.

And, sure enough. In the shadow of the tree they watched as the entire Saxon army formed a line in front of the wall.

**Now, you are going to REVIEW!**


	17. Chapter 17:War CouncilPart I

**Okay. I'm babysitting from 6:30 AM-4:30 PM. From there, I go directly to marching band until 9. I'm going to post little snippets of this chapter, as I am far too tired to type the entire chapter at this hour. It will be the same thing for tomorrow and the next day, but I'll try to update a bit each day. It quite tiresome, running after a three year old all day, changing his diapers. It's no picnic, I can tell you that. He wasn't even interested in reading the King Arthur book I brought with me!**

**TalkIsCheap-Everyone is proud of Galahad! I'll see what I can do about some more Arthur/Guinevere MRC.**

**Nianko- that's alright! I'm so glad you reviewed again; I was beginning to pine for one of your reviews! **

**Camreyn- Holland sounds nice! The Ladies of War (or Guinevere, Rebekah, and Sera) will definitely get to kick some Saxon-ass soon.**

**SunsetSparrow- Thanks!**

**MonDieu666- I do not know where to find a script. Sorry! **

**Elvish-princess130990- You have helped make me a fulfilled individual. Thank you.**

**LittleWolf4- Te He He!**

**I LIKE IT LIKE CHEESE- Thank you for being so understanding of little-old-me! I don't think that this story will continue on after the battle much. I may consider doing a sequel, if anyone would like to read one, that is.**

**TJ- Yea Galahad!**

**Dazzler420- (pat on back) I like that too. I'm a sucker for happy endings...**

**BebegurlPR- I hope you have not gone into cardiac arrest! How awful! Thanks for reviewing!**

_**OK. Here are some notes, as most people tend to be confused about these things, and I was too tired to be descriptive in the last chapter.**_

_**Regarding the families' reactions to their daughters bringing home Sarmatians- In the first chapter, I touched on this briefly, saying something along the lines of- He couldn't blame these men. They were only doing what they needed to do to stay alive. He was doing the same thing himself- That was from Rebekah's father's point of view. Also, Merlin informed the tribe that the Sarmatians had rescued their ladies, and that they should not harm them. The Woads were grateful to have their ladies back, and were in turn welcoming to the Sarmatians. **_

_**Regarding the whole "Rebekah-Tristan- Etain- Laim" thing... Tristan knows that Rebekah has no feelings for Laim, and as long as Laim keeps his lips to himself, Tristan will not go out of his way to beat the shit out of him. Another question was why did Tristan let Etain sit in his lap in the first place. It was a rather sudden action, and Rebekah showed up, so she left. Some other people want me to get rid of Etain and Laim. In my opinion, you always need a good nemesis. I love writing about characters who are blinded by ambition. They're such hypocrites. (But then, we could theorize that all humans are hypocritical, and could very well be right. So, we'll just say that highly ambitious people are more hypocritical than others.)**_

_**Regarding the conversation that took place between Alecto and Merlin. It has always been my observation that when you look at every religion and boil it down to its core, they are all the same. In very basic terms, every religion say, "Do good for the world, treat yourself, your neighbor, and your 'higher power insert here' with respect." Even the atheists that I know go by this same core value (with the obvious exclusion of the higher power) We have fought and killed in the name of religion, when that is not what religion is, that is not what faith is. Killing is hatred, and has no place in a religious forum. Even the story of King Arthur has been twisted over the years, to fit various religious purposes. At a time when it was being seriously debated if women had souls, monks got their hands on the story, and twisted Morgan la Fey into a heinous bitch, who was always trying to kill Arthur, when in the earlier version, her only role was healing King Arthur. They created an adulterous affair between Guinevere and Lancelot, making them die of shame, broken heart...etc... the list goes on and on. They used the story to express their own moral ideals. Religion, when we see it as a barrier between us and 'everyone else' only serves to destroy us, and destroy any decent thoughts of the generations past. (I personally would like to hear the original story of King Arthur, the one that would not make me feel ashamed of having breasts.) I realize that this was not conveyed at all well in the last chapter. Perhaps, someday, I will type up the conversation, when no one expects romance or battle. **_

Merlin looked to Arthur, a question in his eyes.

Arthur had been thinking quite a bit of late about where he fit in the world. Every time he tried to put himself someplace else, all roads lead back to here. This was his country. These were his people. He would stay.

He gave Merlin a slight nod, and turned to his knights.

"I have no epic speech ready to stir your souls. I am simply going to ask you if you will stay with me and fight. If you do not wish to, that is your choice. You are free men, now." He said, simply.

The knights looked at each other, thousands of thoughts circulating around the group.

Dagonet looked to Fulcinia. He could go with her to Rome, but he would feel the shame of leaving his friends for the rest of his life.

Bors locked gazes with Vanora. If he died, she would have eleven bastards to raise on her own. But, who was to say that she would make it off the island in the first place? If the Saxon's won, they might very well overtake them on route. The only way to make sure Vanora and his children lived was to fight.

Gawain was rethinking his vision of the beautiful Sarmatian woman that he was to marry. There seemed to be plenty of beautiful women here. Why should he leave? This island had been a home to him for fifteen years, he would defend it.

Galahad had always wanted to go home, but he could see the decision in Gawain's face, and that held sway with him. Besides, he couldn't quite justify leaving Deirdre to fend for herself. She would be fighting tomorrow. They had hardly spoken, but she hadn't walked away, or made a derisive comment about his lack of masculinity. She was different.

Lancelot knew what he needed to do. The two people he cared most for in the world were staying. He would not let Sera or Arthur die alone. Sera would never be persuaded to leave. She cared about this land, and so did he. He lightly traced the rake marks on her cheek and sighed. How could he leave now?

Tristan didn't look any different than he normally did, but his thoughts were certainly not as bland as his expression. What would he do with his life, if he left now? Sarmatia was a conquered land. With the exception of joining the Roman army, they didn't fight anymore. He was a warrior. He would die honorably in battle. The battle was here, with Rebekah.

Arthur didn't need to ask for their answer. He could read it in their faces. They would stay. He gave them a grateful expression, and turned back to Merlin.

"My knights and I will join you." He said.

Merlin tried to hide his relief, but some of his emotion escaped, and if you looked hard enough, you could see it on his face.

"Ladies, knights, we will need to have a War Council. We will discuss this in my dwelling." He said.

He and the Ladies lead the knights to the agreed upon location.

**Now, REVIEW! Or I may decide to be evil and NOT FINISH THE STORY! (Insert evil laugh here)**


	18. Chapter 18:War CouncilPart II

It's a bit longer this time, and I like it better than the last part. As I know nothing of battle, I'm going to look at the war council from Sera's POV. Sera doesn't know shit about strategy either. I love Sera! Thank you to all my lovely reviewers who responded to my threat.

**Anonymous- You know you're doing well when people threaten to infect your computer with a virus. Thanks for the review! (and its Laim.) **

**LittleWolf4- Well, here you are. Thanks for taking the time to review!**

**BillieLiv- That's okay, you are writing a very promising story called apprentice at the moment that you should update (hint hint, wink wink) Thanks!**

**SunsetSparrow- Thanks!**

**Nianko- I could never tire of your reviews!**

**Camreyn- Of course I am! We all love Galahad, but he is a bit shy around the ladies. I'm glad you liked my rantings on religion. At last! I have a disciple! (not!)**

**Nautica7mk- Thank you so much! It's so nice that you reviewed!**

**Midnight Conqueror- Yes, it is an interesting thought, Lancelot going off to his perceived doom. Thanks!**

**MonDeiu666- That's all right! I love your story- as I told TalkIsCheap- Your story rocks my socks! Did you ever read The song of the Lioness quartet by Tamora Pierce? Well, I was always rooting for George the king of the Rouges to win Alanna's affections, as opposed to smarmy Prince Jonathan! Long Live the Rouge!**

**Elvish-princess130990- I'm glad you are in love with Arthur and Galahad and Lancelot. Me, I'm more of a Tristan Lancelot kind of girl. I'm sorry they took your story offline...Why did they? **

**Elvenstar5- Te He He (muh hah hah!) While I can be a heinous bitch when the occasion calls for it, I'm not _that_ cruel.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- Indeed you have! Congratulations on a job well done! (I really like the Rebekah-Etain smack down. It was great!**

_Now, I would like to clear up my ramblings on religion in my last chapter. Make no mistake, I am not against religion (come on-I'm Roman Catholic-you get disowned or shot when you leave the church!) My point was simply that when we allow ourselves to be blinded by religion, when we fail to see our similarities, it kills our humanity. Killing is not humane. The crusades are an excellent example of religion run amok. If you want a more recent example, try Hitler. Religion is a vital part of our lives, whether we claim a religion or not. We still have our own values and thoughts on life. All I'm saying is that when we kill other people or harm other people for the sake of "god" we have lost our humanity, and we only fight for ourselves, it is in no way what 'insert deity of choice here' would want. As Camreyn pointed out, we all want the same things from life. We want to survive, to raise our children in a peaceful environment, to be happy, to protect our friends, to find love. Yet, we kill each other for all of those things, when if we simply worked together, we could all win. You're probably really bored, and not reading this anyway, so I'll stop. If you made it this far- Bravo! I am so proud!_

The council lasted for hours. Sera was beginning to get bored. She didn't have much to say at these meetings. She was not a master of war. She was a healer and a foot soldier. She was included in these meetings out of respect for her position as leader of the healers, but it was rather tedious. To give herself something to do, she studied Lancelot. He had done so much for her. He was willing to face her mother! Now, he was staying behind to fight a battle that he could easily walk away from, without anyone thinking less of him. Yet, here he was, arguing with Rebekah over some tactic or another. She allowed herself a small smile. It never ceased to amaze her how many sides Lancelot possessed. Around his friends, he was a womanizer, a charming rouge. Around her, he was a romantic charming rouge. With her mother, he had resembled a small puppy, who had done something naughty. Now, he was aggressive, exacting. It was one of his greater charms, the chameleon skin that made so many like him. It was not that he changed his core, however. He was the same proud man in all situations. She had never been able to do that, and envied that quality. Perhaps he could teach her a few tricks along the way, if they survived to see the sunset tomorrow.

She tried to force her tired mind to concentrate on what was being said around her, but it was no use. Giving up, she fixed a vaguely interested expression on her face, trying to feign attention. But then, Arthur spoke, and she jerked to attention.

"Well, now that that's settled, we must return to the wall without being seen by the Saxons. It will not be easy." He said, frowning.

The Woads present laughed. Arthur and his knights looked angry for a moment, before they schooled their faces to look questioning, rather than threatening.

"My friends, nothing could be easier. The Romans have not looked after their wall as they should. In many areas trees reach the top of the wall. All that is required is a bit of climbing." Said Merlin, trying to hide his amusement.

"How come I did not know of this?" asked Arthur, brow furrowed in distaste.

"The Romans do not think rationally anymore. They are pulling out of this island, and no longer care about the state of the wall." Said Guinevere.

Now that that was settled, they left Merlin's dwelling. Rebekah cornered Galahad.

"So, do you like her?" she asked.

Ah, dear sweet Deirdre. The only woman who had had a flirtatious conversation with him for over ten minutes. While other women saw his stuttering as pathetic, Deirdre saw it as a sweetness, a rare quality. At first, he had stuttered on for what seemed like forever. He feared that she would leave in disgust. Instead, she kissed him. It was definitely one of the greatest moments of Galahad's life. Galahad gave Rebekah a swift hug and kiss on the cheek as Tristan uttered a low threatening growl. Galahad didn't care if it upset Tristan. Rebekah had introduced him to the love of his life and he wanted to thank her properly for it.

"Things went that well, eh?" asked Rebekah, grinning. "Oh, Tristan, don't worry. Galahad has found his lady love, and it isn't me." She uttered the last few words with false sighs. Her eyes swept the clearing, and she smiled. "She's waiting for you." She said, pointing to Deirdre.

Galahad gulped, trying to inspire courage, and went off to woo his lady fair, a determined expression on his face.

Rebekah laughed and turned to Tristan.

"Why does he get the hug and kiss?" asked Tristan mildly. He didn't feel mild.

"Jealous, are we? Well, here you go." She said, and kissed him firmly on the moth, locking her arms around his waist. "Feel better?"

"Considerably."

"Good, come with me, I have to get my weapons and battle garments."

"Are you coming with us?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course. Oh, I haven't explained to you about the various perks of being a Lady of war, have I?"

"There are perks?"

"Yes. One of them being that on the night before a battle, I get to choose whoever I want to share my bed."

Tristan was very rarely shocked, and when that emotion occurred, he usually managed to hide it. He was not able to mask this shock, however.

"But...Your father is here..." he said, lamely.

"Yes, which is exactly why we are going back to the wall. While I may be sexually liberated, I don't think either I or my father wish to discuss my sex life."

Her words were very true. She dragged Tristan to her family dwelling, and retrieved her supplies, making certain that she had Woad paint with her other necessities. It would not do to have a Woad leader without paint.

Sera and Lancelot had been walking behind Rebekah and Tristan.

"So, what was Rebekah saying about these perks?" asked Lancelot, charming smile intact. He was tired of strategizing the battle. He much preferred strategizing how he would get Sera from here to his bed. He wanted her, more than he had wanted a woman. Ever. That was frightening. Even more frightening than Sera's mother. Yet, it was oddly satisfying, that he could read in her eyes the same thoughts.

They would be fighting tomorrow. There was no guarantee of success, no guarantee of survival. Either one of them could die easily. If he was going to die tomorrow, then he was going to spend the next few hours making love to the only woman in the world that had every really made a difference to him.

**Review, and I'll throw in some MRC! (Oooo...Incentive...bribes...I'm so good!)**


	19. Chapter 19:Dark thoughts

**Chapter 19: Etain-Laim-ChiefHow: Dark thoughts.**

**I must say, I'm disappointed. I got one review. Though, I suppose I must apologize to a few reviewers from the last chapter, who-due to my computer's incompetence- were accidentally deleted from my thank yous. So, as I have n utter lack of reviews for this one, I'll answer them now.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- My wonderful numero uno reviewer. Thank you sooo much for reviewing! Eventually, yes, there is a rather inevitable battle. I'm still working on it! Thanks again!**

**BebegurlPR- Thanks for reviewing! I'm sorry you got cut out!**

**Jenny- Thanks!**

**TJ- You don't really think I'd leave Fulcinia unhappy and broken for the rest of her life, now do you? Thanks for the review!**

**Note- As I was in a terrible mood, there is no real MRC in this chapter. It gets kind of smutty near the end, but it reflects my dark mood. I wrote about the supposed villains, because whatever anyone tells you, the villains always win. When you see a movie or read a book with a truly heinous character in it, who do you remember, the evil one, or the pure one? I always find the evil ones to be more interesting from a psychological standpoint.**

Etain watched Laim's chest rise and fall. She had gone to him on Rebekah's orders, though it wasn't exactly a sacrifice to roll around with this one for a while. What made her want to hiss was Rebekah shaming her in front of the group. Etain remembered the scene vividly. She had seen Tristan from across the fire. He was a very attractive man, and she was getting bored of the men available to her. After hearing Merlin's announcement that the Sarmatians had saved the Ladies, he was a very attractive man. If he was in favor, and he took her, so would she. So she had settled herself down right on his lap, trying to remember exactly how Rebekah had done it before. Rebekah always managed to charm men. She wasn't even that pretty! Etain was. She was better than that bitch in every respect. Both of their mothers had been warriors. Rebekah's mother may have been higher placed than hers, but Etain's father's status was much higher than Rebekah's father's. _She _should be the one to march equally with Guinevere, not some slut who had only joined the tribe five years ago! It was maddening! Why didn't anyone else see how hideous she was? Why didn't Laim?

Laim wanted Rebekah. To him, Rebekah was a goddess. He only shared his bed with Etain occasionally, and even then; it was only to keep boredom at bay. It angered him that he could want Rebekah so badly, but she never gave him a second glance. They had made love, if that was the correct term-as Rebekah saw it only as a release- only once, before a battle. He could still feel her flesh beneath his fingers. He could still taste her lips, her tongue. He could still see her writhing beneath him, over him, beyond him. It had been the ultimate experience for Laim, but Rebekah was unaffected. The next morning she had strapped on her battle gear, and left. She had never asked for him again. Laim had been crushed, and had run to the arms of a sympathetic girl, an ambitious girl. A girl who would bed him for her own advantage. Etain. She was himself, in the female form. Someone once said that before we are born, we are merely souls. When we have earthly bodies, our soul is split in two, and put into two separate bodies. We spend the rest of our lives looking for the other half of our soul. Etain was his, but he didn't want it. He had enough of his soul as it was. He wanted her.

Etain remembered that stance oh so well. Rebekah had stood, weight shifted to one side, head cocked, eyebrow raised. Her eyes had flashed dangerously, a smile that did not reach her eyes firmly in place. Her hands poised on her hips in the finishing touches. She was a woman. The posture, the tone, clearly implied what she was. She was staking her territory, warning off all others. 'he's mine.' She had insulted her coolly, not even blinking when Etain had tried to return the gesture. No one was left with any doubt who the alpha female was there. Etain had left in disgrace, looking over her shoulder in time to see the slut lean closer to Tristan, whispering in his ear. The bitch needed to be put in her place. It couldn't be done in the open, Rebekah had seduced too many to her cause. No, this would require cunning, this would require information.

Battle was a chancy business at best. People gambled with their lives when they took a sword into their hands. Why, one could easily be scarred for life, maimed for all eternity, even killed. Especially if one was a leader. Rebekah had always been the first one to throw herself into the fray. She saw it as a way of winning over peoples loyalties, of inspiring them. It was not required that the leaders do this, indeed, when Etain became the Warrior, she would simply direct. There was no real reason for risking herself. But in Rebekah's case, it was the perfect opportunity. She would need Laim for this. He didn't need to know it was Rebekah that she was after, there was no point in troubling him with that pesky little detail. Laim had been in on that meeting, he knew their strategy. He was always more agreeable after a good tumble. She would play with him a bit, and then ask.

She gently ran her hands the length of his body, waking him up slowly. He would be cross if awakened too suddenly. She straddled him, and leaned down, nibbling his neck, murmuring softly in his ear. His eyes fluttered open sleepily, but they quickly sharpened when he sensed Etain was ready for another round. His hands ran possessively down her back, and pulled her into a vicious kiss. He was angry. He had seen Rebekah go off with that damn Sarmatian, wrapped in his arms. He needed someone to take out his rage upon, and Etain was the closest target. Without warning, he roughly rolled her over, and took her, pounding away at her viciously. She was nothing more than a whore.

**Now, do you really want to read something that disturbing ever again? Then REVIEW or suffer my wrath! Or we could look on the bright side of life and say that if you review, I will write some nice MRC and make everyone, including myself, happy.**


	20. Chapter 20: Proposals

**I got reviews! (Does "the hustle") Yeah! Some people actually liked last chapter. I will admit that it was fascinating to write, however, it got a little disturbing with them having sex at the end. You can't really respect a man who'll sleep with a woman and be thinking at the same time that she's nothing but a whore. I mean, really! **

**BillieLiv- Thanks for reviewing!**

**ChildlikeEmpress- I'm glad you like Etain's plot.**

**Jemiul- My sympathies for your computer woes. I like that they all get the girl too. That was the only problem with the movie. Asides from Vanora, Guinevere was the only woman involved.**

**Nianko- I LOVE VILLAINS! (We could make T-shirts!)**

**TalkIsCheap- I didn't like Secret Window, because they killed the dog. That was just low! But yes, Johnny Depp (drool here) did an excellent job as the many faceted villain.**

**SunsetSparrow- I'll see what I can do about the MRC**

**Cameryn- Your philosophy was interesting, but it made my head tilt a bit. I'll see what I can do about Deirdre's perks. Just to remind you, Merlin isn't Rebekah's father, but it would probably be just as awkward! I'll see what I can do about the MRC.**

**Elvish-princess130990- You have my sympathy. **

**Gifted Empress- Thinks for reviewing! I'm glad you like Sera. She reminds me of me a bit. I LOVE VILLAINS!**

**Dazzler420- Sera Rocks!**

**Blueglass25- MRC rocks my socks!**

**Elvenstar5- You'll have to wait and see...Muh ha ha...**

_**Notes...**_

_**Sera- Lots of people like Sera, which surprised me a bit, at first. I was worried that she would end up a Mary Sue, and everyone would hate her. That would have made me sad, because Sera reminds me of me a bit. We don't look anything alike, but we are both the ugly ducklings of the bunch. We both very rarely have much to say when not among friends. It's hard for both of us to trust or warm up to people. We both underestimate ourselves, and occasionally suffer from low self esteem. But then I realized- Sera is everyone. Everyone has felt like Sera at some point in our lives. I wanted a character for Lancelot who was not a conventional beauty. Lancelot always seems to fall for the most beautiful woman in the world on fanfiction. This saddens me. I will never win the Miss America Pageant, it's true, but does that really matter? I hope not.**_

_**Rebekah- I happen to like Rebekah, even though a lot of people hate her because she's beautiful. (Yes, you know you do.) But, what I like about her, is that she doesn't care. She doesn't solve her problems by sleeping with the right people, as she could. Sure, she's flirtatious, but she has so many sides to her, that she's a joy to write. While we obviously don't resemble each other, I let her borrow my eyes.**_

_**Guinevere- You may have noticed that I don't spend a lot of time with Guinevere. This is because I don't like her all that much. I don't Identify with her character well, so I don't try too hard. Sorry.**_

_**Villains- If you were offended by Chapter 19, I apologize. However, I wished to present their relationship as it was. It was a sexual partnership, and was shown as such. If you have a problem with that, there isn't much I can do about it.**_

_**Just a question- Didn't everyone love Dracula in Van Helsing? I loves how he did his hair! (Though I was a bit worried that he would be electrocuted, what with all the metal in his hair, and the various electrical currents he was working with.)**_

Arthur looked to Guinevere, a question in his eyes. She nodded, and she got her things. He was unsure what the future would hold, it was an odd feeling. Before, he knew what path his life would follow. He would fight for Rome, and then retire in Rome, listening to Pelagius for the rest of his days. That bright future was dead. He had a new path. He didn't know what lay at the end.

Daithi took his daughter aside. Rebekah smiled at him, as she often did. She was so happy to see him! She did wonder what he thought of Tristan. He hadn't really talked to him much. Tristan backed away, giving them privacy.

"We will fight together again tomorrow." He said.

Rebekah blinked "But, father, you haven't fought in so long, with your injury..."

"I will fight tomorrow. This leg will hold me for one last battle. And this is the battle we have all been waiting for. I will not stay home with the children."

He sounded so sure, so final, that Rebekah didn't even try to point out that if she wished to, she could order him away from the battle. He would find a way, in any case. She just nodded, and tried to smile.

Desperate for a change of topic (he didn't want her to worry about him), his eyes landed on Tristan.

"An interesting fellow..."

Rebekah did smile then. "Yes, he is. He was the one to pull me out of that place."

"Well, then it appears I owe him some thanks." He said, and motioned Tristan over. "Thank you for looking after my daughter." He said simply.

"She looks after her self just fine. She would have gotten out of there herself, given time."

"Under normal circumstances, yes, she would have gotten out all right. But she wouldn't have been able to get Guinevere and Sera. I am honored to meet you." He said.

Rebekah watched the exchange with interest. Her father had always told her not to blame those that Rome had enslaved, but prejudices ran deep. You could never fully crush them. Yet, here he was, approving of a foreigner. Sure, he would never voice such an opinion aloud, but it was communicated nonetheless. Daithi looked to Rebekah, and gave her a small smile.

"Until tomorrow, then." He said, and left, planting a kiss on her forehead.

Tristan looked at Rebekah, and very nearly smiled.

"He knows..." he said softly.

"I know! That was a little unsettling. He likes you, though."

"Of course he does. I'm his last hope for seeing you decently married off, no one else would be able to stand your chatter."

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she asked.

There was a moment of silence, and then... "Yes."

"I suppose. Well, we had better get moving. The others will have gotten their things by now."

It wasn't the romantic proposal that little girls dreamed of. Nothing could have been more fitting for Tristan and Rebekah. Tristan was not a man who valued eloquent words. Rebekah knew that she would never accept a flowery proposal, as the deliverer would not know that she couldn't stand such things. She liked to keep things plain and simple. There was just one thing missing.

She turned to him, and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Their mouths met, and a wild battle of tongues and teeth ensued. "I love you." She said simply. Tristan nodded. That was all he needed to know.

* * *

"I noticed how you were looking at Tristan tonight..." Etain said to Laim.

They had just finished the last round, and Laim was feeling refreshed. A good tumble with Etain always made him feel more relaxed. They were sitting up, Etain in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. She was toying with his hair, a coy expression on her face.

"And..."

"Well, he will be fighting tomorrow. Accidents happen. Is the Saxon leader, Cedric, as deadly as they say?"

"It's true. He is the finest swordsman that ever lived. I wouldn't fancy a round with him."

"Yes, well...perhaps you could mention that little fact to Tristan. I'm sure he would like the challenge."

Laim thought about it. It might just work. From what he could tell, Tristan's strongest weapon was his bow, not his sword. He seemed to have a death wish. He probably would welcome the challenge. With Tristan gone, Rebekah would need someone to turn to for comfort. He would be there with open arms. Etain was rather clever. Pity, she didn't know that he would toss her aside as soon as Rebekah came to her senses.

"I may take your advice" he said with a smile "Do you have any other ideas?"

Her coy smile only widened. She leaned closer to his ear, murmuring one of the more inventive suggestions that she had heard Rebekah utter to Laim once. Laim always liked it when she behaved like Rebekah. Sometimes, she thought that he closed his eyes and pretended that she was Rebekah. He was pathetically head over heals for that slut. When she had finished, she knew she was right. She was just a replacement.

"Well, if you insist..." he said, and thrust her back roughly on the bed.

* * *

"Will you come back with me?" Lancelot asked.

Sera stared at him for a long time. He wanted her. It was such an odd realization. She had seen the women at the wall; they were plenty prettier than she, yet he wanted her. She took his hand and linked their fingers. She pressed her lips to his.

"Yes."

Lancelot kissed her harder, and it was a long time before they remembered where they were. Lancelot pulled away from her, looking frantically about.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, in that frantic manner.

Sera let out a laugh. Lancelot the brave, afraid to be caught behaving cozily by her parents. "They went to sleep, where I would think they are behaving just as cozily as we speak."

"Oh, that was a bad picture to put in my head. I really don't want to think about your parents going at it. Besides, I don't like the way your mother looks at me."

Sera grinned. "Neither do I, I don't think I would be able to stand the competition if she tried for you."

"You keep putting these awful pictures in my head, now I'm seeing me and your mother! Agh!"

Sera did stop at that one. She didn't want Lancelot thinking about her mother like that.

"On second thought, let's just find the others." She said, and dragged him off. They were both trying to erase the vivid pictures forming in their minds.

When they had all assembled, Sera handed Rebekah and Guinevere some herbs. They both looked at them, questioning, before they remembered what it was. A slow smile played over Rebekah's face.

"Any for you, dearest Sera?"

"Of course." They all laughed, and set out, the males following, trying to hide their confusion. They had never seen this herb, and didn't know its uses. One of them, preventing pregnancy.

**OK. REVIEW, and let me know what you think of a sequel. If you couldn't stand to read it, let me know.**


	21. Chapter 21:MRC and the Merry Men

**There isn't much dialogue in this chapter, so it isn't as long as the others. I felt the occasion called for some MRC, as the chapter title indicates. Enjoy, and let me know if you thought it was too smutty.**

**Nianko- I LOVE THE T-SHIRT! We should totally make them!**

**MonDieu666- They don't plot much this chapter, but perhaps next chapter...Rebekah's Father Rocks!**

**SunsetSparrow- You're Welcome!**

**Camreyn- More MRC just for you!**

**Elvish-princess130990- read note below.**

**MaLooLa- I love Etain! Villains Rock!**

**Dazzler420- Indeed! We all love Sera!**

**TJ- I'll think about it.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- I hope you won't kill me. That would be most unpleasant. Thanks for the review, and good luck with your therapist!**

**Elvenstar5- OK!**

**Notes-**

**Proposals- Everyone was confused. The proposals I was referring to in the title were Tristan's proposal to Rebekah (Of marriage, which she did accept, in their mutual unromantic tone.) and Etain's proposal to Laim. This was obviously not a marriage proposal. It was a plot proposal. No, Lancelot has not asked Sera to marry him. He wants to see how the battle goes first.**

Radha looked at the group that was about to leave for the wall. The hairy knight, Gawain, was with them. She wanted to talk to him a bit more. He was very sure of himself, and she wondered if he really was as good as he claimed.

"Sera! Wait! I'm coming with you!" she yelled, and dashed off to her dwelling for her things. She couldn't let Deirdre have all the fun.

They were waiting for her expectantly when she returned. Gawain looked especially glad to see her, and Radha had no doubt why. She smiled slowly as Sera handed both she and Deirdre an herb. She hoped she would need it.

"I'm glad you're coming." Gawain told her.

"So am I." She said with a smile.

Bors slipped his arm around Vanora's waist. He was feeling the romance in the air. Or, perhaps, it was simply the excitement before battle. Whatever it was, all the little bastards would be going to bed early tonight. Vanora smiled back at him. She was glad to have him home. She was worried, though. Tomorrow, he would be fighting again.

Etain watched them leave from the opening of Laim's tent. Laim would have a nice friendly chat with Tristan tomorrow. When Tristan fought Cedric, Rebekah would see, and run to help. If a warrior didn't finish her while she wasn't looking, Cedric would do the job. Etain would find a way to keep Tristan alive. She could always use another man in her bed. Laim saw her awake, and pulled her back to the bed. It was their ritual before battle. It got the blood flowing, and kept it that way.

The group had been walking for a short time, before they came to an area of wall thick with trees. They all gave each other a boost, Dagonet being the last up. They made it back to the main wall without incident, and they all went off to their various rooms. Sera offered Fulcinia some herbs, and she took it warily. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to use it.

Tristan put a possessive arm around Rebekah's waist, as some Roman soldiers leered at her. They stopped abruptly, and tried to busy themselves with something else when they were fixed with both Tristan and Rebekah's harsh glares. As they neared Tristan's room, they came across the unconscious figure of Bishop Germanus. Tristan looked at Rebekah questioningly, and she shrugged.

"He called me a whore. I don't stand for that."

Tristan's expression became murderous, and Rebekah tried to steer him away from the Bishop. She wanted to marry the man, not watch his execution for murdering a Roman.

"I don't stand for that either." He said, coldly.

"Let it go. I took care of it." She said and kissed him.

In his weakened state, he did not notice that she was steering him to his room until they were at his door. Rebekah stared at Tristan and her eyes clearly communicated, 'Either we go in now, or I'm leaving.' Tristan stared right back, and came to a decision. He would kill the Bishop later. She didn't need to know. He pulled her through the door. Rebekah set her satchel on the floor, swallowed the herb Sera had given her, and turned to Tristan, a slight smile on her face. He crossed the room and started undoing the laces on her dress. As Rebekah was already intimately acquainted with Tristan's tunic and trousers, they weren't difficult to remove. He kissed her as her dress hit the floor. They slowly made their way to the bed, as they explored each other's bodies. Tristan saw all the burns and slashes that her clothing had concealed until now, and kissed each one. Rebekah traced his scars, but found that she had many more scars scattered over her body.

"I win." She said softly, a triumphant smile on her face.

"No, that simply means that I'm a better warrior, and don't let people hack at me."

"You have armor! Have you ever seen what I fight in?"

"No..."

"Well, you're in for a treat tomorrow!" she said, and pulled him back down to her. They kissed, and Tristan felt an odd sensation. Peace.

Dagonet looked at Fulcinia. She was obviously debating internally with herself. She had been born and raised a Christian, and for women, spending the night with a man you were not married to was a sin. Not to mention, she hadn't exactly found joy in the bedroom previously. But Marius didn't care, Dagonet did. He was different. She gave him a small smile, and nodded. Dagonet returned the smile, and took her hand. He would be gentle.

Lancelot looked questioningly at the herb that Sera held in her hand. "What's that?"

Sera smiled. "Among other things, it prevents pregnancy." She said, as Lancelot went still. "We all take it before battle. It would not do to conceive and have the child killed with us."

She swallowed the herb, and looked to Lancelot, a question in her eyes. He smiled at her and led her to his room. He didn't intend to sleep much that night. Sera had never been more sure of anything in her entire life. She wanted him, and for some odd reason, he wanted her. Why shouldn't they? Lancelot kissed her, and her lips curved into a smile throughout. He made her happy. His obviously experienced fingers fumbled with her dress ties. He found his hands to be shaking. That had never happened to him before. He adjusted his lips, and they began to nibble their way down her chin and neck, sending shock waves through her body. No one had ever made her feel like that. Sera settled herself down on the bed, and didn't think anymore.

Gawain had never been so unsettled by a woman. She didn't seem to care that he wanted her in his bed that night. He usually had to charm women into his bed, but this one didn't need that. He liked hearing her talk about battle from the Woad's perspective. He was used to seeing things his way. They realized that they had fought in many of the same battles, and had actually fought each other at one point. Radha took him back to his room and showed him the slashed scars he had given her. Not to be outdone, he put his scars on display, and they eventually found their way to the bed. It would be an interesting evening.

Galahad didn't know how to ask Deirdre back to his room. He needn't have worried. Deirdre asked where it was, and dragged him along behind her. He pretended to protest, but she laughed. His sense of chivalry was rather adorable. Galahad eventually gave up, a happy expression on his face. He didn't mind it when she took charge.

All the little bastards were asleep, and Bors turned to Vanora. She was worried, he could tell. He didn't want her to worry anymore. He kissed her, trying to distract her from her thoughts. He might not be an eloquent speaker, but he understood what others around him felt. He would comfort her tonight, and would hope that they would meet again. He prayed that if he died, she would not grieve, and go marry some rich man to raise their children right. She deserved a good man, far better than him. It was one of the reasons he had never asked her to marry him. He couldn't help himself touching her, loving her, but he always hoped that she would come to her senses and marry someone who would do well by her. But, she had stayed, all these years. Vanora always thought that Bors didn't marry her because he thought her inferior. He would show her differently tonight.

Etain was straddling an exhausted Laim. She rolled onto her back, and placed her hand on her flat stomach. She had forgotten to take the herb that night.

Arthur woke suddenly, and found his bed to be empty of any other. The sheets were still warm. She hadn't been gone for long. He replayed last night in his mind. Guinevere was so sure of herself. He hadn't had to convince her of anything. She had made her decision, as he had made his. They would be fighting today, and he could only wish her luck. There were no guarantees.

REVIEW! I HAVE TO START SCHOOL SOON! MAKE ME FEEL BETTER! ARG!


	22. Chapter 22: Amen!

**My last day of freedom (shivers...) Alas, all good things must come to an end. I don't know if I'll be able to update tomorrow. If I don't there is no need to hire a private eye, I have not been abducted by aliens (I suppose that matter could be debated...) I'll finish this story at some point. Wish me luck!**

**Raynacch SilverMoon- You should update A Renegade Rouge! It's awesome!**

**BillieLiv- It's a very flattering nickname! Thanks for Reviewing!**

**Dazzler420- You're not the only one!**

**ChiaraStorm- Thanks! I'll try to update soon!**

**SunsetSparrow- A test already? That's just low!**

**Nianko- Oooooo...A villain fan club...I like it!**

**Elvish-princess130990- I'm sorry you got in trouble...more luck next time!**

**MonDieu666- Yes, it will end eventually, but then again, so does life.**

**Camreyn- You'll just have to see about the herbs. I love Bors!**

**Marlee- Thanks! Lancelot is quite the hottie.**

**ChildlikeEmpress- You're sarcasm is not wasted on me, never fear...Maybe you could have an Etain bitchfest!**

Rebekah awoke slowly, and was a bit confused as to her surroundings at first. Then she looked down, and saw Tristan, staring back at her. She wondered how long he'd been up, looking at her. The night had been long, and she couldn't remember falling asleep. She smiled down at him. He very nearly smiled back. He skimmed his hands lightly down her back, and sighed. They needed to get up. He kissed her temple and rolled her over, and made an attempt to leave the bed. His exit was impeded, however, as Rebekah swiftly pulled him back on top of her. Then, just as quickly, their positions were changed, and her hair spilled over her shoulders, masking them both behind the curtain.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" she asked, teasingly.

He pulled her closer, and kissed her. "We must get up. Arthur will be waiting. Merlin will be waiting." He kissed her again, reluctant to leave now.

"Well, if we're quick about it, I think we'll have enough time. Besides, you still have to braid my hair. You can't just leave!"

It wasn't a huge sacrifice to stay in bed for another fifteen minutes, Tristan decided.

"We should probably get ready now..." said a rather breathless Rebekah.

"You're probably right."

Rebekah rolled out of bed, and reached for her satchel. Tristan grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her back. She looked at him, questioningly, and he spun her around so that her back was to him. He began to braid her hair, as he had done on the occasion of their first kiss in the wagon. It had seemed like such a long time ago, but in reality, it had been only a few days. When he was done, this time he was the one to kiss her. It wasn't a passionate kiss; it was more of a parting kiss.

"Tristan, if you get yourself killed, I will be very upset." Rebekah told him.

"I'll try to remember that."

"See that you do."

"The same applies to you."

With that, he turned from her and began dressing. Rebekah admired the efficiency of it all. This was a man who did not waste time. Rebekah waited until he left until she changed into her battle attire. She wanted to keep something a surprise. It would be inspirational for him on the battlefield. They had not said goodbye, as they didn't wish this to be their end. He had simply left with a kiss, and Rebekah had seen a hint of a smile on his face.

She went to find the others, but the room that they were all to share was empty. Rebekah smiled. The herb had not been wasted last night.

Sera awoke to find Lancelot already awake, and dressed. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. He crossed the room to her, and kissed her. A replay of what had occurred last night flashed through her mind, and Sera nearly groaned. It had been very good. Then, Lancelot was gone. He didn't want her to see his fear. A bit confused, Sera donned her war clothes, and strapped on her weapons. She went back to their room and found Rebekah. Guinevere showed up a bit later, in full battle gear. Deirdre and Radha shuffled in soon after her, both with content smiles on their faces. Everyone looked at one another, as they all wore telltale smiles. Last night had been fun. Rebekah decided to break up the silence.

"All I was thinking last night was, may the Gods bless Sarmatia!" she said with a grin.

"Well said!" exclaimed Sera. Deirdre and Radha nodded in agreement. Guinevere, who didn't know what the hell they were talking about said,

"I don't think I hate Rome as much as I did before."

Rebekah sniggered. Guinevere looked at her incredulously. "What is so funny?"

Rebekah shook her head "Nothing....Nothing...Just remember, Arthur's a Briton too, our men aren't completely without merit!"

Guinevere gave a large sigh, and nodded solemnly. "You're right. We did survive relatively well without all these foreigners. Though, I really don't see what's so good about Sarmatia."

The other women grinned.

"Of course you don't." said Sera gleefully.

"Come now, children. We have a battle to win. We can't stay here and chatter all day." Said Rebekah in a patronizing tone.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Deirdre.

Rebekah looked to her questioningly. Deirdre produced a container of Woad paint from her satchel. Rebekah mentally kicked herself, but it didn't show, she calmly reached into her own bag, and withdrew her own paint. They painted each other with swirls, and loops. After making each other distinctly eerie, they nodded to each other, and they left as a group.

Fulcinia and Vanora liked each other immediately. They would each be taking their children to the same area as the other Woad children, and those unable to fight. If the Saxon's won there would be no guarantee of their safety, but they had a hidden retreat, where they could live for quite some time. It was the best the Woads could offer, and they accepted it gratefully. They were both worried about their lovers, but tried not to show it. Tears would not help.

Bishop Germanus Awoke with a splitting headache. Some servants had found him last night, and had returned him to his room. Germanus didn't remember any of that. All he knew was that his head was about to explode. Then, he remembered. That whore had thrown him into a wall! Who did she think she was? No one did such things to him! But, he had no time to punish her. He had to leave right away, unless he wished to stay for the battle to come. He did not. He liked being alive. But, they would hear of this when he returned to Rome. He was an important man. He could afford assassins.

Arthur and his knights had formed a line, fully armored. Their horses were alert, sensing a fight soon to come. Tristan noticed something out of the corner of his eye. His brain ceased functioning for the few precious seconds that it took for the rest of the knights to notice the direction of his gaze. Five jaws dropped (Dagonet and Bors looked the other way.) It was a group of five Woad women. A very particular group at that.

"Dear God..." said Arthur, in awe.

"Amen!" chorused the knights. It only seemed fitting. They may not be Christians, but after being with Arthur for fifteen years, they knew the terminology.

"I've got to find a way to get Sera to wear that later. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself." Said Lancelot, after he regained the use of his tongue.

Galahad just stared. This was the beautiful woman he had spent the night with. He thought he had seen her at the height of her loveliness. He had bee wrong. This was it.

Gawain snapped his jaw shut. If she wanted commitment, she could have it! If anyone could look that gorgeous and deadly at the same time, they deserved his undivided attention.

Etain was nervous. She hadn't told Laim. They had both dressed and strapped on their weapons. Then Laim had left, to have his little chat with Tristan. Etain had been left by herself in Laim's tent. She sat down on the bed, head in hands. What would she do? Laim didn't love her; he didn't want her, really. Her family was dead. She had no one. No one. She didn't have any friends. Tears streamed down Etain's face for the first time in a long while. Tears made you weak. They let everyone else see you weak. Etain got shakily to her feet. She would not let this stop her. She promptly fainted.

Laim had had his little chat, and was feeling very satisfied with himself. He looked around at the fighters that surrounded him. Where was Etain?

Arthur returned from his talk with the Saxon leader. They still had a bit of time. In the distance, they saw Bishop Germanus and his escort set off on their journey. Good Riddance.

"There goes one of the most devious of Romans." He said.

The others looked at him questioningly. Sure, he had given them orders when their servitude was supposed to be over, but Arthur didn't generally react like this.

"He told Marius that torturing people is an excellent way to get them to convert." He said, shortly."

There were dark thoughts in every knight's mind as they saw the Bishop's carriage roll away. He would not leave this island alive. It appeared that Tristan had more of a score to settle with the Bishop than he originally intended. He could tell Rebekah this time.

Rebekah turned to her troops. She had never been one to spout of glorious speeches. Now was no exception.

"My fellow Woads, these Saxons have been very rude guests. It is time that we make it known that they are no longer welcome within our lands." She turned to her and Guinevere's personal guards. "Oh, and I'm getting married. If we win, and if you live, I might just invite you."

They all looked a bit shocked at this, including Guinevere, who had not yet heard of the engagement. She quickly recovered, and grinned. "You can't wait to leave us, can you?"

"Who said anything about leaving?" asked Rebekah, returning the grin. If they lost, she was going to be _very_ upset.

**REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	23. Chapter 23: Battle Part I

Hi! This is a really short update. I have no time! Arg!

BillieLiv- I'm sure you never get into trouble! I kind of like Etain and Laim. But, then again, I'm kind of quirky.

TJ- Indeed it is!

The Devil's Juliet- Villains are sexy!

Jemiul- Can't you just see their expressions? The whole beauty thing was really nice, and very true. Sera is a goddess to Lancelot.

Veronica- Thanks!

Trinity Valyntine- Thanks! I love Rebekah! I'm glad Tristan makes you feel giggly inside! (Go Tristan! Woot Woot!)

Camreyn- Etain and Laim have a complex relationship.

SunsetSparrow- Thanks!

Nianko- Villains are Sexy!

ChildlikeEmpress- Don't hurt the Window's 95! It's a classic! When you need to scrounge up some money to go to the nursing home, you can pawn it.

Elvish-princess13990- Tristan is HOT.

Okay, some people were concerned that Etain and Laim weren't in character. Far too often, we assume that people can be pure evil. I do not believe this to be true, so I have been trying to give these two a different side. If it isn't working, let me know. I don't want this to be the standard story where Cinderella goes off with her prince charming, and her stepsisters have their eyes picked out by crows. That's just gross.

Rebekah saw her father in full Woad gear, and her breath caught in her throat. He had always protected her from everything. He had raised her on his own. She could not return the favor. As a commander, she had to keep control of their entire army, and could not look after a man with a limp. That would be hard for her. She couldn't blame him though. He was right; this was the battle that they had waited generations for. He would never be content to stay with the children, neither would she.

Guinevere and Rebekah gave the silent order to form ranks. It was complied instantly. The Woads had formed a line, bows in hand. Rebekah fingered her Sarmatian bow, and remembered the first time she had graced Tristan's lap with her presence. She had been filthy, yet he hadn't been repulsed. He was Tristan, through and through. He was not fooled by smoke and mirrors. He saw everyone for who they truly were. He could cut down each person quickly, and sum up their strengths and weaknesses in a blink of an eye. It was one of his many gifts, and Rebekah was blessed with a similar talent. She simply wasn't as patient. It showed. She was nearly itching for the battle to begin. She wanted to get this over with. She wanted her friends to survive. She prayed that the Gods were smiling on them that day.

Sera was placed further back from Guinevere and Rebekah. One more battle, and she could retire as foot soldier. War was not her hobby. It was a job, and it would be completed for the most part that day. She would not miss the blood. The screams. The stench of death. She wanted to live out her days healing, in peace. She saw Lancelot across the field, atop the hill. He was looking relaxed, unconcerned. How could he be so carefree? But then she remembered that people deal with fear differently. Some refused to show it. Some showed it far too freely. Some snapped. Some masked their fear. Lancelot was apart of the last group. He tried to distract people from their fear. If done poorly, it was crippling. Lancelot, however, had perfected the art over the years, and Sera could only be thankful. She was feeling a bit better. Lancelot could look after himself.

Merlin examined the empty stretch of land between the wall, and the trees where his people awaited. It would all be decided here. Each blade of grass looked so deceptively innocent, many of those blades would be crushed that day, along with his people. All he cared about in the world would be decided today. He had prayed, but now he put his faith in his people, in his daughter, but most of all, he put faith in Arthur. Without him, all hope was lost.

Laim's blood was pumping steadily faster. The battle was coming, he could feel it. Yet, there was a certain unease that he was not used to. Where was Etain? They had spent a very memorable night together, and she had strapped on her weapons with him, why wasn't she here? His mind searched back, trying to find something he had missed, something that had disturbed her. A flutter of movement. It was her hand, but what was it doing? With a shock, he realized that it had come to rest on her flat abdomen. He blinked, still trying to process this new information. Etain was pregnant. But who was the father? He hadn't noticed Etain sleeping with anyone else, he would have been informed of such a thing. It was his. Did he want a child? He really didn't know. Did he want a child with Etain? He thought of Rebekah, and was surprised to find that he didn't feel the same jolt that he used to at the thought. He had loved and wanted the thought of her. She embodied all that he wanted in a woman. But she didn't want him, and in all honesty, he didn't want her as much as he thought he had. He came to a decision. He had to go check on her. He left one of his men in charge. The battle would not start for a bit, and if he ran, he would not miss anything.

He ran back to his tent, his mind racing with the scenery. When he reached it, he threw back the flap, and was surprised to find that he was concerned to see Etain unconscious on the floor. He picked her up gently, and set her down on the bed, checking her for injuries. She had some bruises, but those were probably from last night. He brushed the hair from her face and gently kissed her temple. He couldn't waste any more time. He didn't know what to do with Etain. He didn't have time to take her to where the children were, and if they lost the battle, the Saxon's would find her here. They had to win.

**REVIEW! (PLEASE???? (AUTHOR BATS LASHES) I'LL BE YOUR BESTEST FRIEND FOREVER!!!!)**


	24. Chapter 24: Battle Part II

**This is the longest chapter that I have ever written. As I have barely any homework this weekend, I took at least six hours out of my day to type this. I hope you like it, I do.**

**MonDieu666**- Thanks! I like Etain.

**Kasha**- Whoa! Chill! High blood pressure kills! Dagonet is very important! What would I tell Fulcinia? Do you really want to kick an abused woman when she's down? This entire story is unrealistic. Why would I start now? Thanks for the thoughts! It was nice to read your review!

**Veronica**- Ok. Will do!

**Camreyn**- My English teacher of last year (Yeah, Mr. Voss!) was the one who mentioned the whole soul theory when we were debating human nature, It was some Greek philosopher, I want to say it was Aristotle, but maybe not. I really like that idea. Perhaps living in a country where half of the marriages end in divorce court (i.e. the USA) I would like to believe that there is the perfect person out there waiting for me. Unrealistic? Perhaps, but I happen to like this particular fantasy. Yes, Etain and Laim are very complex individuals, and you get to see more of that in this chapter. I really like these characters. So often, we have characters that everyone can admire, who have no deep dark secrets. I like characters who have smears in their past who overcome them. That's what I'm trying to do with them. I love your nice long reviews!

**SunsetSparrow**- Thanks!

**Nianko**- Here's the update! (by the way, your stories rock- keep writing!)

**Elvish-pricess130990**- Yummy indeed!

**The Devil's Juliet**- Laim is cool!

**ChildlikeEmpress**- The couple of the funny names indeed! There's more where that came from! Hope you have fun at camp...Think of Tristan!

Etain opened her eyes slowly. Where was she? And then she remembered. She had fainted. How pathetic was she? But someone had come. She was on the bed now; she hadn't been there earlier. A kiss to her temple. Who was it, though? Laim wasn't sentimental, and he was rarely gentle. It really didn't matter; she had to get to the battle. If she missed out on this one, she would regret it the rest of her life. She thought of her mother. As Rebekah had so kindly pointed out, her mother had been a fine warrior. Etain didn't have her talent. Sure, she was skilled, but her mother was legendary. She had died protecting Rebekah. She had gone down in glory; she would not be forgotten for some time. Etain wanted to make her proud. She hadn't been able to do that while her mother had been alive, but she hoped she was watching her now. Etain would help the Woads win their victory. Her mother would smile upon her. Etain didn't really care if her father was proud, he might have been high placed, but he had never taken much interest in her. Etain's mother had tried to pretend that she loved her. It was a valiant effort, to be sure, but unconvincing. Etain's mother had loved Rebekah, though. Rebekah was a fearsome warrior, a force to be reckoned with. Etain had wanted her position, if only to prove to everyone that she could be like her mother as well. Perhaps she didn't want to please her deceased mother anymore. Perhaps she should settle for pleasing herself. She would fight for herself today.

Etain was not the only one thinking of her mother. Rebekah tried to remember the faceless woman, but couldn't. She had been a baby when her mother fell, and had no memory of the woman. Everyone else was always telling her how much she resembled her mother. Rebekah had no way of knowing if they were lying. Perhaps they simply were clinging to the ghost, and didn't see her flaws. Perhaps she was not worthy of being their leader after all. But then, her father smiled at her, and she sighed. She was herself. She might not be her mother, but she was a damn good leader. This was her place, and she would let no one, not even herself, convince her otherwise.

The gates were opening. The roaring Saxons entered, and looked about them, in utter confusion. Where was everyone? Their cry gradually died out, until there was utter silence, apart from the sound of the flickering flames. It was eerie, and many a Saxon was looking over their shoulder, as if frightened of their own shadow. There was smoke everywhere, obscuring their vision. Then, suddenly, a soldier saw briefly through the smoke, Arthur and his knights. He shouted, and pointed. Everyone else turned in the direction he was indicating, as the smoke cleared, they saw it too. They all resumed their war cry, and advanced. Suddenly, the gates creaked shut behind them, as if by phantoms. Something was distinctly odd about all of this.

Rebekah and Guinevere exchanged glances, and they signaled their archers to prepare themselves. Guinevere would lead them in this; she was better with the bow. As she drew back the bowstring past her ear, all others followed her movements. She angled her arrow up, and let it fly. There was a cloud of arrows descending upon the unsuspecting Saxons.

The Saxons could hear a faint whistling sound, and looked about warily. Then, without warning, dozens of Saxons went down. Screams filled the air. They kept falling. The Saxons snapped out of their shock, and used their shields to form a wall of protection. Out of the smoke, they heard an unearthly cry. Suddenly, the smoke cleared, and Arthur and his knights came swooping down upon them, slashing and stabbing. As they rode past, the Saxons changed their position, to protect themselves from the knights, as their backs were turned, Guinevere signaled for another volley. Taken by surprise, dozens more Saxons fell, Woad arrows deeply imbedded in their bodies. The knights came through for another pass. The Saxons didn't know which way to turn. Either way seemed to cause death. The Saxon archers tried to shoot the knights, but ended up killing their own. After several repeats of this, only one Saxon was left alive, but barely. They decided to let him go. They needed a messenger. He hobbled through the gate, covered in blood and gore, eyes wild, mouth gaping in shock, his breath coming in short gasps. He quickly fell over in exhaustion.

Cedric came to a decision. Arthur wanted to play, did he? Well, he was in the mood for some fun as well. The army would march. The cry rose among the sea of Saxons. They moved forward. When they reached the gate, they didn't even bother to avoid the injured Saxon, who was quickly trampled to death. Crushed by his own people. Sebbi looked on in disgust. He just wanted to go home! These people wanted what he did, he would not kill them.

As they entered the wide-open gates, they saw a sight much like the earlier Saxons had. Wisps of smoke, mingling with the bodies of their fallen brethren.

Guinevere looked to her father. Their silent communication indicated their thoughts. It was now or never.

Cedric ordered his men into formation. He saw Arthur over the flames. Arthur was very confident. Why? His men marched in Arthur's direction.

The Woads were lighting their arrows. Now it was time for phase two to begin. Arthur signaled to Guinevere. She nodded, and drew her lit arrow back. She watched its flight in wonder. It was an interesting thought, that something as insignificant as a twig could steal a man's life from his very body. She hoped that the arrow found its mark. It did. The Saxons formed a wall again, but many were hit. Guinevere's hit its mark precisely. It landed right into the pitch that separated the field. Instantly, the flame spread, parting the sea. The Saxons were confused, disoriented. What were they supposed to do? How could they fight ghost creatures that they couldn't even see?

Guinevere and Rebekah raised the cry of the Woads. Arthur and his knights couldn't hand an army of this magnitude on their own. Rebekah led the charge, the war cry ripping through her body. Her sword was grasped tightly in her hand, her feet pounding the grass that had fascinated Merlin earlier that day. They were crushed. As the two armies met, blood spilled forth. Woad blood, Saxon blood. It mixed freely in the blades of grass, the perfect union of foes.

Sera viciously attacked, the blood hot in her veins. This was battle. Many thought that the battlefield was a place of power, of glory, of honor. In truth, it was none of these things. Battle was cruel, battle was ugly, battle took away one's humanity. It was all very well when you were shooting arrows, never really seeing your opponent. You didn't have to see his eyes as he fell, the realization of mortality on his face. That was what battle was.

Merlin signaled the warriors to prepare to fire the sling. The Romans had left it behind in their haste. They loaded the slings, lighting its contents on fire. At Merlin's command, they launched the fiery matter into the air. The Saxons scattered. Sebbi watched one of the soldiers next to him as the soldier was consumed by flames. Sebbi would die here, this was not his war. Suddenly, Woads, led by a woman, attacked his group. He had never fought a woman before. He would not start now, not with his end so near.

Aine roared as she led the charge. They thought they could stroll in and take their land without a fight? Aine would teach them differently. She threw herself at her enemies, daring them to strike. She was the leader of her band, she was not afraid of death, only enslavement. The last was not an option. She would not allow her people to be enslaved. Not while there was still breath left in her body. She took down two Saxons before they realized what had happened. One of them seemed very reluctant to attack her. Was he afraid? She rushed him, and he made no move to defend himself. What was he doing?

Sera rushed a large Saxon. She jumped on his back, and he easily threw her to the ground, and delivered a hard kick to her side. Guinevere, Radha, and Deirdre yelled, and dragged the Saxon to the ground, strangling him. Radha ran across the field to Gawain. Without warning, he had fallen from his horse, an arrow in his chest. He ripped it out of his flesh with a yell, Radha quickly dispatching the archer. They nodded to each other, and continued to fight, rage rolling through them.

Rebekah looked across the battlefield, and stopped. Her father had hobbled over to the Saxon leader, Cedric, and had engaged in battle. She let out a shriek, and ran, fighting her way through the tide of Saxons. She lost count of those who fell beneath her sword. She faltered as Cedric knocked her father to the ground. She was rewarded with a kick to her side. She went down, vaguely thinking 'Like father, like daughter'

Tristan saw Daithi fall, and rode to help him. This was Rebekah's father. She loved him. He dismounted, and Cedric turned to him, ignoring Daithi. Tristan brushed off his helmet, and brandished his curved sword. This man would know who he was. He would not hide.

They circled each other for a few moments before Tristan struck. He never liked the traditional strutting, the motions.

Sera saw Cynric, the Saxon with the funny beard. She had promised Rebekah that beard, and she kept her promises. She let out a battle cry, and attacked him. The sword was not her strongest weapon, as she had learned while fighting Lancelot. This Saxon knew how to use a sword. She managed to land a few hits, but she was not as skilled as he. Cynric hit her with his shield, and she felt her blood spurt, as her body twisted and hit the ground. If this was death, she found that she really didn't care anymore. People would always kill one another, and all she could do about it was patch up the survivors. Was it really worth it? Then she heard Lancelot's yell, and she realized- it was. She would do her part. She rolled and faced Cynric, searching in vain for a weapon. As he raised his sword over his head, she closed her eyes, and prayed that her life would be taken quickly. She did not want to linger.

Lancelot saw Sera being thrown to the ground. He let out a yell, and dashed to his horse, dispatching a few Saxons that attacked. His horse seemed to soar above the battle, his woman was in danger. Cynric had his sword raised, poised to strike, Lancelot gave another yell, and intercepted the sword with his twin ones. Once, he and Sera had debated the advantages of both the twin and single sword fighting style. Sera had contended that it was better to have the single, as you could devote all your energy in one direction. He had tried to explain to her that it wasn't about brute strength, it was about cunning. People often forgot about your other sword. It was time to decide who was right.

Tristan and Cedric exchanged blows, both privately admiring each other's skill. Tristan's sword was knocked from his hand, and they both stared at it. Cedric was not yet ready to give up on this one; he still had live left in him. Tristan never took his eyes away from Cedric, calculating, as his right hand reached for a dagger. He would not give up so easily. Cedric kicked the sword to Tristan. They would play a bit more before he killed him. Tristan watched him warily, and slowly bent down to pick up his sword, lunging without warning at Cedric. Cedric easily parried and they continued on, until Rebekah reached them. This was her area of expertise; she had no wish to see Tristan killed.

She swept Cedric's feet from under him, taking him by surprise. Rebekah looked at Tristan, a clear message in her eyes. 'He's mine. Mine.' This man had dared attack a crippled man. He had attacked her father. He had invaded her land. He would not leave this field breathing. Cedric rolled, as Rebekah jabbed at him. Her fury was blinding, and she took a second to calm herself. It was all the time Cedric needed. He jumped to his feet and lunged at Rebekah, a lunge that she blocked at the last minute. They lashed at each other, baring their teeth as metal screeched on metal.

Laim was fighting a burly Saxon, fighting with all he had. Etain needed to be protected at all costs. The Saxon knocked him to the ground. Laim had heard other warriors talk about the moment of nirvana before death. He had always scoffed at these tales, claims that you saw your life flashing before your eyes, then having your mind wiped blank, with one single image to bring you to the light. He saw it now. He was a little boy, chasing after a little girl with red hair. Etain. Then, he saw them when they were older, Etain watching him from the shadows. He had intrigued her, though she would never admit it. Then, he saw her as she was last night, face flushed, shining hair fanning out behind her, a satisfied smile on her face. Her green eyes flashed with invitation, as she brought Laim down to her, just holding him. It was that last look of green-eyed desire was what Laim would take to his death.

Etain saw Laim fall, and her eyed widened. The primitive need to protect her mate took over, and she sprinted at the Saxon, jumping on his back and slashing his throat with one of her daggers. She looked quickly about, and seeing no immediate danger, she knelt beside Laim. He looked up at her in wonder, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. They did not need to speak. Some things could not be expressed through words.

Laim looked up into Etain's green eyes. His avenging angel. She had saved him, when he thought she hadn't really cared. Women generally didn't care for him (i.e. Rebekah) but she did. It was a profound moment, one that he would never forget. Then he remembered, and his eyes flew to her belly. He reached out, and placed his palm over it.

Etain watched his hand slowly massage her stomach. He knew. Somehow, he knew. And he didn't mind. He loved her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be. Everyone had always told her that she should be like someone else, but he was the only one who wanted _her_.

She helped him up, and came to a decision. She didn't want Rebekah to die any longer. They no longer had any quarrel between them. Her mother may have loved Rebekah more than her, but that was hardly Rebekah's fault. She had harbored so much hate, and in the face of her love for Laim, it lost the fight. She did not want Tristan. She did not want him to suffer, as she knew he would at Rebekah's death. She had to stop the hatred somewhere.

"Come, we must hurry!" she said, and dragged him along behind her, frantically looking about for any sign of Rebekah. She found her, and her blood ran cold. This was her doing. Hers. She did not deserve to live.

Lancelot continued fighting, Cynric had gone to hide somewhere, and was no longer his concern. Sera had gotten up, and fought by his side. She saw Cynric out of the corner of her eye, and shrieked. He was aiming an armor-piercing crossbow at Lancelot. She wouldn't reach him in time. She reached for a dagger, and took careful aim. She flicked it at Cynric. It cut off his beard neatly, and continued on its journey until it lodged itself in his throat. Cynric looked shocked, and fell to his knees. Sera walked over to him, and found his beard that had been severed from his body. She fingered it for a moment, a small smile gracing her bloody face. Rebekah would be pleased. She tucked the braid into her belt, and continued on. This was her last battle. She would do her part.

Four Saxons surrounded Deirdre. She spun and whirled, trying to fend them all off at once. There was no hope of escape. The Saxons weren't really even trying. They were toying with her, a woman who did not know her place. They would show it to her. It would beâ€amusing. The sound of hooves rapidly approaching caught their attention. It was Galahad; enraged that they would attack the woman he loved. Deirdre took advantage of their lack of attention, dispatching three of them, while Galahad slashed the other man across the chest. Galahad dismounted, and ran to Deirdre, frantically checking her for injuries. Deirdre nearly laughed. He was still her adorable Galahad, even in the heat of battle. She gave him a swift kiss before turning, and throwing herself at the ever-dwindling Saxons.

Aine could not bring herself to kill a man who obviously meant her no harm. She turned, and instead attacked the rest of his group, one by one. A soldier came up behind her, and was prepared to strike. Sebbi didn't even think, he reacted. You didn't attack a woman, especially so dishonorably from behind. He roared, and decapitated the soldier. Aine turned to him, confused. They studied each other, and Aine made a decision. He did not wish to fight for the Saxons, yet he fought for her. He was as good as any Woad. She ripped the furs from his clothing, and smeared her body over his skin, rubbing some of her paint off on him. It would not do to have him killed by a Woad, when he was only trying to help. She motioned him to follow her, and continued to protect her land from the invaders.

Guinevere had been knocked to the ground. 'It might not be so bad' she thought, and resigned herself to death. Her father would be sad, for a time, but all wounds heal. 'Not these kind' argued with herself.

Arthur saw Guinevere fall, and rushed to her aid, swiftly beheading the Saxon threatening her with death. His breath was labored, his heart beating fast. He had been frightened for her, and hated to admit it. He did not like the implications. He loved her, but the Woads would never accept a Roman for their Lady. 'But you're not a Roman. You are a Briton.'

Guinevere gave him a small smile, and sat up. Arthur helped her to her feet, and Guinevere found that she could barely stand. The battle had raged for a long time, and her strength was about to give out.

Rebekah and Cedric had been slashing at each other for several minutes, and each was starting to show signs of fatigue. Rebekah was not reacting as fast as she normally did. Still, she watched the Saxon leader with calculation, looking for an opening. He knocked her to the ground, and prepared to give the final blow. This was the opening Rebekah had been waiting for. She jammed he sword behind her, ramming it into his gut. She stood, and he fell to his knees, an arrow in his back. She slashed his chest. If he still had a heart, it had ceased to function. She grabbed the hair on he forehead, and forced him to look at her. She saw the life flee from his body, and dropped his body in disgust. He hadn't been the God that he was made out to be. He had been beaten by a woman. It was not a statement that was used to inspire shame. It was an irony. His people did not see the true value of women. Her people did. It was one of the reasons that he had fallen. He did not see a woman as a force to be reckoned with. He had seen her as a silly little girl playing dress up. The inability to see a challenge in Rebekah had been his downfall.

Rebekah looked about for the anonymous archer. To her surprise, she saw Etain. But, Etain couldn't stand her...She had been rather unkind to Etain just last night. Yet, here was Etain, trying to save her life. Rebekah walked calmly over to Etain. She schooled her face to look cool, controlled. Etain always had an angle. What was it this time?

"Etain...It appears that I owe you some thanks." Rebekah said, without emotion. She searched Etain's face for an answer, and she found one. Guilt. So, Etain had set her up. That was it. Yet, she had helped her. Etain had always hated her. Etain's mother had been rather remote, and had died defending Rebekah. It could not have been easy, knowing that her own mother had no love for her. Yet, what did she know of motherhood? She had no mother. Her mother was dead, just like Etain's.

"We have no quarrel between us. It is often hard to live up to our mother's standards. I find myself in the same situation often. Thank you for your aid." Said Rebekah, formally. She and Etain would not necessarily become the best of friends, but mutual respect would blossom between them. It was true, Etain was not Rebekah's finest warrior, but she suspected that she would be one of the most loyal.

Aine turned to Sebbi, calculation in her gaze. He had fought well for her. He would be rewarded.

"I'm Aine." She said, motioning to herself, hoping he would understand.

"I am Sebbi." He said. He had been the scholar of the family, and knew several languages. His family was all gone now. He had nothing left. He had been forced into the Saxon army, though he hadn't protested much. What did he have to live for anyway?

"Come, we must do something about your appearance. I can't introduce you to the tribe looking like an uncivilized Saxon bastard." She said, a slight smile on her face.

"Uncivilized? We are at the height of civilization!" He protested jovially.

"I noticed you didn't answer the bastard aspect. Perhaps I shouldn't ask." She said, and dragged him back to her tent to clean up.

Laim came up behind Etain, his face full of concern. She had fought hard that day, perhaps too hard. He scooped her up, and when she protested, he said,

"You shouldn't have even fought today. But you did, and now, you will rest." It was delivered firmly, leaving no room for argument. He carried her away from the battlefield, back to his tent. Etain was not tired. Her blood was still pumping fast, battle lust flowing through her veins. When they entered the tent, Laim deposited her gently on the bed, and removed her weapons and battle garments. They had no place on a pregnant woman! He got a damp cloth and wiped the blood from her body. When he was done, he wiped the blood from his own body, and took off his weaponry. He turned from Etain, preparing to leave the tent in search of food for her, when her hand stopped him. She pulled him back to the bed and kissed him. It was unlike any other kiss they had ever shared. Etain wasn't trying to be anyone else. She was Etain, and only Etain. It was intoxicating. Laim let out a moan, and let himself be pulled down. The food could wait. Outside, the sun was setting, the stars were coming out. The tent flap blew open, and the heavens watched the mating of the souls. The souls of Etain and Laim were one.

**Review, and let me know if this was too confusing. I read it over a few times, but I have an odd sense of order, so REVIEW!!!!**


	25. Chapter 25: After the Storm

This is short, as most of it is dialogue (as apposed to last chapter, when there was hardly any.) I don't have much time, but I'll try to update as soon as possible.

**Nianko- Saying what you mean and being a heinous bitch are two very different things. They crossed the line. I hope you continue updating!**

**A.K. Anonymous- Thanks.**

**Jemiul- Lancelot Rocks!**

**Camreyn- I did a happy dance when I saw what a perfectly nice long review you left for me! This is bliss!**

**SunsetSparrow- I like writing Sera's thoughts.**

**Shallindra- I'm sorry you were confused. I merely wished to indicate the speed of the battle. I'll try harder next time.**

The Saxon force had been decimated, only one Saxon left alive. The sole survivor was currently in a Woad leader's tent, getting most of his beard cut off.

Rebekah offered her father a hand. He accepted it without any apparent emotion. They were both covered in blood, and his hand slipped in hers. She caught him, and hauled him to his wobbly feet. He was alive, but barely. Tristan stepped forward, and swung Daithi over his shoulder. Daithi couldn't walk in this state. Rebekah led them back to Woad camp, and to Daithi's tent. Tristan set Daithi down on his bed, and turned to Rebekah.

"He'll live." He stated simply.

"He always does."

"I am still conscious, I can hear you." Said Daithi, the annoyance slipping slightly into his voice. He was older than both of them, where was their respect?

Rebekah gave him a slight smile. "Will you be all right without me? I must go check on my friends. I'll see if Sera has time for you." If Sera was still alive. And Guinevere. And the knights.

"I'll be fine. You needn't trouble Sera, she'll have her hands full as it is." He said, dismissively. All he needed was a bit of rest. Why did they fuss so?

Rebekah planted a quick kiss on his blood-caked forehead, and dashed out of the tent, Tristan, at a slightly more dignified pace, followed her.

When they reached the battlefield, Rebekah slowed her pace. The dead littered the field, some areas so densely covered; you could not see the green grass. It was a difficult business, weaving through all the bodies. In battle, she never really noticed it, unless simply to note not to trip. Afterwards, it always made her sad. So many gone. Good friends. Enemies. Did it matter? She came across a familiar Saxon with his throat slit. But where was that pathetic braid he called a beard?

"Looking for something?" asked a voice from behind her. Rebekah whirled around, and came face to face with Sera, who was looking very pleased with herself. She was twirling a braid between her fingers. Rebekah gazed at it in all. There it was. She reached for it, but Sera pulled it back, a grin on her face.

"Really, I thought you loved me! Now I find that you only wanted me for my treasures! Betrayal!" exclaimed Sera, a bit overly dramatic.

"Oh, but dearest, you know my heart belongs only to you! There are just so many benefits to your affections!" Sera was not the only one with a flair for the dramatics.

"Well, I suppose you can have it, if you say _please_." Said Sera, with a sigh.

"_Please?_" asked Rebekah, batting her eyelashes.

"Alright."

Rebekah delivered a crushing hug to her friend, while relieving her of her trophy simultaneously. It wouldn't do for Sera to change her mind!

Tristan watched the exchange with a slight smile on his face. It was rare that he let his amusement show. It was time to try new things. No need to go overboard, though. Tristan couldn't really see himself reciting poetry anytime soon.

"Have you seen Guinevere?" Asked Sera, as soon as she had caught her breath.

"Yes. She's doing just fine." Came a voice from behind.

Sera and Rebekah launched themselves at Guinevere, and at contact, they all winced. They had quite a few new bruises to add to the collection.

"Rebekah, we should find the others" said Tristan, desperate for all of the excessive affection to end.

Rebekah noted his discomfort and smiled, though she said nothing. They set out as a group to find the rest. Sera tackled Lancelot on sight, and the others felt it best to leave them to it. They found Radha and Gawain intertwined, and came to the same conclusion. Some things were best not seen. They saw Bors running off into the Woods, quickly followed by Dagonet. They were off to see their ladies fair, as it were. The little bastards were happy to see them.

Galahad helped Deirdre up, and they smiled at each other. They had both fought well, and won. It was a good day. They spotted their friends, and ran to them. Arthur soon joined them, his usual pensive self. Only Guinevere saw the satisfaction. They decided to meet back at the Woad camp after getting cleaned up.

Sera and Lancelot headed to his room, to change out of their blood soaked clothing. Lancelot, being the considerate person that he was, assisted Sera in the removal of the previously stated garments. Between kisses, he teased,

"Dearest, I cannot help being slightly worried about you and Rebekahâ I feel a bit left out. I can't possibly take that kind of competition."

"I sleep with her just to make you jealous. I'm glad it's working."

"I am so glad. For a moment there, I actually thought that there was someone in this world more perfect for you than me."

"And we know there is no other being more perfect than yourself"

"Exactly. Which is why you're going to marry me."

"Really, I am? You should have done a bit of groveling first. It's a rule."

"Groveling doesn't come easily to me. But, remember, I talked to your parents. Think of the sacrifice."

"True. I guess it might not be so bad, as long as I am not replaced by a barmaid."

"I can't see you letting yourself be replaced at all, let alone by a barmaid. I'm sure you could take her."

"Alright, then."

They were happy. They were both acting quite pathetically. Lancelot grabbed a rag, and rinsed the blood from their bodies. They didn't need to fight anymore. Sera would never have to do something as distasteful to her as killing ever again. Certainly, they would keep their skills sharp, but they wouldn't be in a constant state of war any longer. Sera sighed, and smiled. The water cleansed her. She would be needed soon, giving life. In perhaps more ways than one.

Aine looked over Sebbi critically. The Woads were not feeling particularly sympathetic to the Saxons at the moment; it would not do to have him stick out. He could join her band of warriors, he would do his share. But who was he, and why had he helped her?

Guinevere ran through her list of kin, trying to determine who had survived. Where was Aine? Aine was her older sister, but usually she would have found Guinevere by now. Aine had always looked after her. Where was she? Guinevere hurried to her tent, perhaps she was tired

Guinevere pushed back the flap of Aine's tent quickly, and gasped. There was a Saxon sitting on the bed with Aine. What was going on here? Aine saw Guinevere, and she searched for an explanation, anything to keep Guinevere from telling everyone about Sebbi.

"Guinevere, this is my friend, Sebbi. He will be joining us. Sebbi, this is my sister, Guinevere." She said, warily.

Guinevere and Sebbi studied each other closely, getting a good measure.

"Sebbi aided me greatly today. He saved my life." Said Aine, slightly encouraged that Guinevere hadn't run off shrieking.

"Then you are truly one of us." Said Guinevere carefully. "You have my thanks and my respect."

"I feel very welcome here. I have not gotten much practice in this language."

"You seem to carry on just fine."

It was not a stunning declaration, but it was one of trust. Anyone who risked their lives for one of her kin was a friend in her eyes. Saxon or not, he was a good man.


	26. Chapter 26: Beginnings

**Okay, this is going to be the last chapter. I'm going to be starting a sequel soon, so hold your horses. I have to do some research for this one. I'll get it up as soon as I can.**

**Arantxa- Sera is a _very _lucky girl (I'm so jealous!)**

**Aurora- Thanks for reviewing! Tell your friends I said hi! Teachers usually think kids are crazy, I wouldn't take it personally.**

**Nianko- Fanfiction's Saviour kind of makes me think of all of those governments that try to decide what is best for an entire country. They apply their narrow-minded views to everyone. That, in my opinion, is not cool. Thanks for reviewing!**

**TJ- No, this is.**

Elvish-princess130990- I wouldn't really call them friends, but they respect one another.

**ChiaraStorm- Sparring all the way! Not much MRC in this chapter, but some.**

**Realtfarraige- Sebbi loves the Woads! Sebbi likes learning about anything in general.**

**Camreyn- I loved the long review! Yeah! I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the sequel to answer your questions. There's so much to explain!**

**MonDieu666- Thanks! Lovely story, by the way.**

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and a gentle breeze played across the land. Today, Arthur and Guinevere would be married. It was a political alliance, but it was also an extremely rare alliance of love. The love that they shared was not one of fiery passion, but more of affection.

Rebekah awoke, and shoved Tristan off of her. She had much to prepare for the day! Tristan's reflexes were quick, however, and he dragged her back. The sun had barely risen, what was she doing out of bed? Rebekah's reflexes were just as quick, but she saw no real advantage to punching him. Instead, she allowed him to trail kisses all over her body. 'The sacrifices I make...' she thought with a grin.

"What's so amusing?" asked Tristan.

"Nothing..." There was no need to tell him about her complementary thoughts.

Tristan just looked at her. She didn't really think he was just going to let it go at a 'Nothing...'?

Rebekah made her second attempt at leaving. Once again, Tristan's arm shot out and quickly encircled her waist. Rebekah rolled her eyes. Really, she had to get up!

"Tristan, if you don't let go of me, I'm going to tell your mother..." she said, laughing.

"You've never met my mother."

"That's right, I haven't. What's she like?"

Tristan hadn't thought much about his mother for quite some time. Certainly, there was the occasional thought, but he never devoted a whole lot of time to the cause. Now, as he ran his fingers down Rebekah's back, he thought of her again. It had been so long ago, would she recognize him? Would she still be alive?

"She likes to talk, I'm sure she'd love you. You're a lot alike in that respect."

"Everyone loves me, were you really worried about that?"

"You have been spending far too much time with Lancelot lately. He's contaminating you!"

It was rare for Tristan to jest, so it was quite a treat for Rebekah, so early in the morning. She laughed as he studied her as hard as ever. It was an enchanting laugh; everything about Rebekah was enchanting to him.

Rebekah sat up. She was going to be late. "Come on, we have to go! Now!" said Rebekah, and didn't give him the chance to pull her back again. She donned an unusual violet gown, and Tristan braided her hair.

"You know, most men would see that job as demeaning." She said, after he had finished.

He looked at her. "Would you prefer that I didn't?"

"No, of course not, just saying..." teased Rebekah.

Sera was pacing Lancelot's chambers. This was an important day, what if something went wrong? Lancelot returned with food, and observed her repetitive actions. He smiled, setting the food down. He wrapped his arms around her, restricting her freedom to pace some more. He kissed her ear.

"It'll be fine. I doubt Arthur is as worried as you are, and he's the one getting married."

"What about Guinevere? She's getting married too!"

"I doubt Guinevere is as worried either. Nothing seems to bother that woman."

Guinevere was pacing in Arthur's expansive chambers. What if she ruined all of this somehow? 'How could you ruin it?' asked the reasonable voice in her head. In the end, Guinevere had to agree. Nothing could go wrong today.

Sebbi was bouncing with excitement in Aine's tent. Aine was watching his movements with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. He had so much energy! Sebbi had been introduced to the tribe without incident. He was now apart of her band, and had had long scholarly conversations with Merlin. Everything about Briton fascinated him. He would see a new plant, and his eyes would fill with wonder. Aine would note the direction of his gaze, and be extremely confused. She took all of this for granted, and now she enjoyed seeing the world through the eyes of Sebbi.

"So, excited for the wedding?" she asked, sarcastically.

"Yes! It will be so interesting! I can't wait to see all of the religious rites! And the food will certainly be an experience." He said, beaming.

Aine just shook her head. She had been to many weddings over the years, and they had all seemed the same to her. This would be different. This would be for the good of the country.

In the circle of stones, A Roman married a barbarian. It would be more appropriate to say that a Briton married a Briton. The rest of the world might see it differently, but to the people of Briton, that was how it was. Merlin presided over the short ceremony, and declared Arthur King. He had fought well for their country, and he would be a more acceptable king in the eyes of the world. He would be able to defend them.

Rebekah and Sera lead the archers in the traditional fire lit arrow salute. Rebekah stood out, the only archer with a Sarmatian bow. When the knights raised their swords with Arthur, she lifted her bow in response. The cheers roared through her, and she closed her eyes. It was like one of the stories her father had told her as a child. They were all the heroes. Each and every one of them had fought bravely for their country, even that Sebbi fellow. The tribe had welcomed him warily at first, but soon seemed to relax as they observed his scholarly habits. They consulted him when Merlin was too busy. He was a welcome addition to the tribe.

Everyone was heading back to the wall, were the feast would be served. The knights sat with their ladies, and discussed what they would do with their newfound freedom.

"I'm going home!" Galahad announced.

Deidre looked hurt, but hid it quickly. It was only natural for him to want to see home again, she couldn't really expect him to stay.

"I'm coming with you." Declared Lancelot, shocking everyone. They had all assumed that he would stay in Britain, with Sera.

"But, what about Sera, eh?" asked Bors.

"You don't really think I'd leave Sera with you lot, she's coming with me. We're coming back, don't worry your pretty head about that, my darlings." Said Lancelot with a grin.

This got the other knights to thinking. They wished to see home again as well. Perhaps not to stay, but it was a beautiful country.

Tristan turned to Rebekah, questioningly. She smiled. She had wanted to know what Tristan's mother was like, now was the perfect opportunity. She nodded, and Tristan visibly relaxed.

"We'll come as well." He said, speaking for himself and Rebekah. They could get married in Sarmatia. Wedding ceremonies were shorter there.

Galahad looked pleadingly at Deirdre, and she nearly cried. Here, she had thought he was leaving her, now she knew he wanted her to come with him.

Gawain was about to open his mouth, when Radha said,

"Sure, I'll come with you." In an offhanded manner, as if he needn't have asked.

In the end, their party consisted of Galahad, Deirdre, Lancelot, Sera, Gawain, Radha, Sebbi, Aine, Tristan, and Rebekah. Dagonet had no desire to see home again, and he did not wish to inconvenience Fulcinia. Travel did not agree with her. They had been married a week ago. Alecto had decided to stay in Briton for a few years, observing Arthur, before returning to Rome. Bors insisted that he would become governor, and would have no use for them anyway. It would be too long of a journey for the little bastards. It was out of the question for either Arthur or Guinevere to accompany them. They had their duties to the land now, and some freedoms would certainly be restricted.

Right after the battle had taken place, the knights and Alecto had gone out for a ride, claiming that they thought the Saxons might have had a few escape. When they had returned, they reported that Bishop Germanus's carriage had been pillaged, and Germanus himself killed. The rest of the caravan had been miraculously untouched, and the knights had dispatched the numerous Saxons. At least, that was what Alecto and the Caravan were willing to swear before the Pope. Tristan had spoken to the Roman commander in a soft low voice, though no one knew exactly what was said, the Romans were now very receptive to the Saxon theory. Alecto would be a valuable witness, it that was ever needed. No one would question them. 'It was,' Bors thought, 'the perfect crime.'

The next morning, a party of ten left Hadrian's Wall, heading south. It would be a long journey.

If a sequel would annoy you too much, let me know.


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